


The Journey Home

by DMichelleWrites



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Family, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Married Life, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 23:58:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12444840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMichelleWrites/pseuds/DMichelleWrites
Summary: A series of drabbles (some AU), but mostly set in season 6 about Oliver and Felicity's journey back home to each other and their ever-changing path as a couple.





	1. Diversion

( _Originally via 602 "Tribute"_ )

Polished dress squeak against the floor of Oliver’s office. Felicity lets out an exasperated sigh. The ticking of that goddamn clock is driving the Queens up the wall. Felicity’s digits race across the keyboard at lightning speedy. She’s right at home in her husband’s plushy rolling leather desk chair. Her husband’s hand taps against his hip, or when he grows tired of that, he rubs his temples. How can they let this happen? They were so careful. Stupid security cameras. 

“Honey, relax. Mama’s got this on lock.”

“Felicity, the last thing I need on my hands is a sex scandal before my reelection in November.”

After the wedding last year, Oliver and Felicity had no time to travel to Bali for a week of wedded bliss, adventures galore, and hot sex. But they managed to sneak away to the honeymoon suite at the Starling Fairmont. The power didn’t quite make it to their hotel room before the action started against the wall of an elevator.

Curtis interjects, “Dang girl, y’all got some moves.”

“Curtis!” His boss yells in a mix of anger and mortification, “What? Why are you watching it?”

Quentin slaps the former Olympian upside the head, “What the hell’s the matter with you. Glasses?”

“Ow!” He yelps, fingertips combing through his afro, “In my defense, it just popped up in the Channel 52 Gossip section. It’s not like I went looking for their sex tape.”

Oliver growls, “It is a not a sex tape. Someone leaked security camera footage of my wife and me in a private moment.”

“Right. I’m sorry, man.” Curtis promises, “Look when Felicity is finished re-coding my algorithm, that video will just be another string of zeroes and ones.”

His friend grumbles, “That doesn’t stop the fact that hundreds of thousands of people saw us being intimate. But it’s better not to have it on the web at all.”

“Yo, Hoss.” Rene announces,entering the mayor’s office, “D says there’s a shitload of reporters outside their asking for a comment.”

Felicity cuts in, “Our joint statement is how dare a credible news outlet leak such a personal moment?”

“Lieutenant Drake, do the Queens have…?”

One reporter shouts from the mob of a press storm.

“God,” Dinah says, slamming the door in their faces, “You have no idea how much I want to use my Canary Cry on those jackasses.”

Rene whispers, rubbing the small of her back “Amore, calmate.”

“I know. I know.”

“Yo seriously though, boss we have to get home to the kiddies before ten.”

“Yeah.” Dinah concurs, “Are you sure Raisa’s okay watching William and Zoe? Together, they can be a bit of a handful.”

Felicity chuckles, “From what Raisa told me at breakfast, they’re nowhere near as bad as Oliver and Tommy or Thea and Madison. She also told me about the time this guy hit his best friend in the face for holding his baby sister.”

Oliver settles at the side of his desk. Crinkles marr his forehead.

Oliver asks, “Are you finished tweaking that algorithm, Hon?”

“Ah ah,” Felicity corrects, scouring through lines of code, “We’re in the field.”

“Overwatch, I…”

“Shh, Coding, my love, in a minute….” The rhythmic tapping of his wife’s stop. The video is officially removed from Channel 52 Action News website.  “And that’s how it’s done.”

Her husband sighs in relief, “Finally.”

“Excuse me?” Felicity’s head whips back at him. She stares him down with a patent withering gaze.”

“Answer fast. Answer fast.” Rene advises under his breath..

Dimples pool in his cheeks as they also flush bright red.

“Well, Baby what I meant to say was now that the video’s erased, we can relax.”

The leather in his chair creaks as Felicity turns to him. She doesn’t have to utter a single word. Her azure eyes burn with annoyance. Felicity’s patent red lips purse when a hand rests on her hip.

“Answer better. Answer better.” Quentin parrots Rene, tapping his shoulder.

Clearing her throat, Felicity requests, “Di, do you mind? I’m too far.”

“Hey!” Oliver snipes.

Dinah flicks the back of his head.

The blonde hacker chimes sweetly, “Thanks, Di. We’ll be out in a few.”

“Good luck, bro.” Rene offers, “I’ll create a diversion while you two sneak out the back. And now we’ll just….”

His girlfriend finishes, yanking his cellphone away from him, “We’ll give you a few minutes.”

“Baby.”

She rises from her seat.

“Don’t you ‘Baby’ me, Queen. Do you think that video only affects you and your campaign?”

He rears back, drawing closer to the large floor to ceiling windows, “No of course not. It affects all of us — you, me, William, and Raisa. God, I don’t know what I would say if William ever saw us…” Oliver clears his throat, searching for the right words, “canoodling in an elevator, or anyone else for that matter.”

Felicity crosses her arms, “And?”

“Even with censors, people still saw us naked. It’s fault because it was my idea. We can never let this happen again.”

“Damn straight.” His wife concurs, approaching him slowly, “Let’s go home.”

Per usual, the duo is greeted by a slew of flashbulbs and annoying questions, even though they go out City Hall’s back entrance.”

“It’s about time.” A stout photographer quips, camera clicking away, “Does Star City’s Royal couple have anything to say about their romp?”

Oliver holds his wife’s hand, gritting, “No comment.”

“Ah!” Felicity complains, clutching her cobalt blue purse, “I literally can’t see a thing.”

Dinah orders, walking in front of the pair, “Back it up, ladies and gentleman.”

Of course, they don’t.

Tires squeal a few feet away from the crowd.

Quentin directs, “Let’s go, go, go. Get a move on Queenies.”

Rene and Curtis handle crowd control while Dinah ushers them into the van. Felicity’s eyes clamp shut. She inhales three deep slow breaths. Anxiety builds in her chest akin to a brick wall.

“Hey.” Oliver whispers in a soft gentle tone reserved solely for her, “You did amazing today. I’m sorry.”

“Really?” Her questions muffles again his peck.

“Mm-hm.” His lips tick up in a small smile, fingertips tangling in her blonde waves, “I love you 220/10.”

No one really knows except for Oliver how anxiety is a struggle for Felicity, especially with their family being in the public eye. Thankfully, they make home unscathed. The front door to their apartment creaks open, and their eyes are met by Raisa with Zoe asleep curled on up on her lap as she reads a book in Russian. Rene and Dinah are right on Oliver and Felicity’s heels.

“The little one conked out about an hour ago.” Raisa informs, looking up from her novel.

Rene hauls his preteen daughter into his arms, which isn’t an easy task. She’s practically weightless, peacefully dreaming with a strand of drool trailing from her mouth. Just like when she was a toddler. The move pulls at Rene’s shoulder injury, though he manages.

He whispers, “Thank you.”

Dinah echoes the same sentiment in Russian, offering her money, Raisa’s lips purse in a thin line.

The elder lady refuses, “No, no. It’s no trouble.”

Still, maybe Oliver and Felicity can sneak in an extra Hanukkah bonus in her paycheck this year. The Drake-Ramirez clan exits the Queens apartment without a peep.

“Raisa!” William yells, ripped out of slumber.

The nanny stands, yet Oliver insists, “You, relax. You should’ve been off the clock hours ago.”

“Uh-huh.” Felicity adds, “We’ve got him.”

William mumbles groggily, “Dad? Felicity?”

“Hey, kiddo.” Oliver greets in a whisper, mussing up his hair playfully.

They sit at the side of his bed, “We’re here now, Bud. You want to talk about it?”

Three kidnappings will leave their scars on anyone — the latest no thanks to Ricardo Diaz. The newlyweds are answered with deafening silence. That attitude is definitely something he gets from his ol’ man.

“Buddy, we can help if you won’t tell us.”

“Fine.” He relents tiredly, “I just… I’m glad you’re home.”

The trio sits and talks for a good hour. They close out the night by reading the latest chapter in the Adventures in Starlane Park series, which helps him fall back to dreamland. Oliver slides his door shut without a word. He fiddles with his wedding. Raisa retreats to her room with a cup of tea. Felicity steps behind her husband, holding him tight. Her noses presses against the column of his spine as she breathes him in.

“I know that look.”

Concern, worry, guilt all mingle on his face.

“It’s my…”

She stops him right there, “It’s the fault of only one man — Diaz. We’re going to find him.”

“I hope so.” Oliver eases into her touch.

They don’t go to sleep quite yet. The couple sits on the couch. Felicity chucks off her stilettos, leaving them askew by the coffee table. Oliver loosens his tie. They cuddle up in the living room, watching  _ I Love Lucy  _ with the sound at a low volume.


	2. Got You On My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after that kiss? Find out.

( _Originally via 603 “Next of Kin_ ”)

**_Previously on The Journey Home_ **

_“But then I saw you with him.” Oliver whispers in a soft intimate voice reserved only for her. “And I became one hundred percent sure that his life will be better with you it.”_

_Hope and confusion mingle on her features, but he isn’t done yet._

_“Just like mine.”_

_Felicity has to know. Smiling, she asks, “Are you sure? That’s what you want?”_

_Dimples pool in his cheeks, “I’m sure.”_

* * *

Oliver’s mouth slants over hers in a sensual and gentle kiss. They share sweet pecks, though Felicity makes it abundantly clear, she has other plans in mind. Plans that involve a lot less clothes. Her hands grip his lapel tightly, sneaking into his jacket as she urges him back against a pillar. His eyebrow raises in surprise. Though he’s not going to say no.

Pain twinges at the back of his head as his girlfriend shoves him against the brick support beam.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Felicity breathes, pulling back much to his discontent, “Does that hurt?”

Her boyfriend assures, “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

A sharp gasp falls from her lips. when he pushes her against the pillar without even so much as a warning. Granted, Oliver is far more mindful and delicate with her than Felicity was with him. His calloused hands cushion her back. Not that he minds in the slightest. Their kisses are rougher than before when he nibbles on her lower lip. His tongue snakes its way into her mouth. Moans muffle against their lips before his stubble rasps along the column of her neck. Her nails rake through his short blonde locks when he continues his descent.

“Wait! What time do you have to get back to William and Raisa?” She whimpers, pausing despite the mind-numbing feeling of his pillowy lips and teeth nipping at her skin.

He smirks, voice laden with desire, “Not for another hour.”

“We can work with that.” His girlfriend figures, shaking her head, “Mm, too many clothes.”

“I agree.”

Oliver plays with the drawstring on her sweatpants. However, Felicity's nimble fingers make quick work of his casual sexy attire. His navy jacket falls to floor. His black t-shirt soon follows in a pile of fabric.

“God, he looks good in blue. It really brings out his eyes.” She thinks to herself, biting her lip, “What am I saying? Get on with it.”

Before, Felicity realizes it, Oliver’s fingertips slip into her sweatpants, drawing them and her blue lace panties along with it. His smile widens because her undergarments rarely match as if Felicity already knew he planned on stopping by the loft — the office or whatever she wants to call it now.

“Felicity.” Oliver draws out her name like she’s the answer to his prayers. She makes things so simple, always has.

Her forehead crinkles, “Ah, Oliver, there’s no… Oh!”

Typical of him, he’s the one who wants romance and to make her feel good when all she wants is a quickie. So Oliver can be home in time for his son. But she’s so not complaining when he throws her leg over his shoulder. He inhales the musky scent of her arousal. His tongue drags slowly over her slit. Her hand cups the back of his head. Her other leg trembling as he builds up her pleasure slowly. His fingers dig in her hips, keeping her lower half away from the pillar. She’s about damn near to smack him upside the head if he doesn’t stop with all this teasing. Fuck! His tongue is amazing against her pussy, but she needs more. He draws little circles around her clit before he sucks on the sensitive bundle of nerves roughly.

“Shit, I can’t… I can’t.”

Felicity literally can’t hold herself together if her boyfriend keeps this up any longer. Regardless of the back muscle he’s tweaked, Oliver takes note of this, lifting her leg onto his other shoulder. She’s completely at his mercy, or maybe it’s the other way around when they’re in the throes of passion.

Oliver alternates between licking, sucking, and thrusting his tongue into her sweltering clutch until Felicity’s a babbling mess of grumbled curse words. Her hips arch into his face. She palms her breast with her free, pinching the nipple through her thin pink camisole and push up bra. Her orgasm crests throughout her body, almost there. He moans at the sight of her hand, eyes half-lidded as Oliver focuses solely on her. It isn’t until his mitigated gaze meets hers, Felicity breaks. A scream echoes off the loft walls before she can quell the noise. She tastes rich, tangy, and damn, this is all too familiar. Oliver’s fingers replace his mouth as she rides out the last waves of orgasm. She pushes his hand away, yanking her boyfriend up from the floor.

Despite the cramp in his jaw, he checks, “You okay?”

“I’m perfect.” She manages, voice husky as she leads him a few feet over to the little crimson futon.

Felicity works off his jeans with ease, despite the tent he’s popped in his denim. Oliver’s boxers dangle off one foot. She takes control as she usually does in the bedroom, or in this case the living room. Felicity palms his dick from base to tip until he’s at full attention. She sucks a bead of precum off her index finger. They look at each other, and they just know. She climbs into his lap, raising her arms. He takes off her tank top, reminiscent of their first night together in Nanda Parbat. He flings off her bra with one simple snap and toss.

Oliver cups her face, uttering, “I love you.”

Felicity doesn’t need to say it, though she does without words. She smiles into a soft peck. Her legs wrap around his waist. She teases him just as much as he did her mere moments ago. He groans at the wetness dragged along his cock before Felicity positions him at her entrance and sinks down until he’s deep-seated inside her. The duo groans at pure sensation of being so utterly connected in more ways than one. This moment, their time together, isn’t simply about sex. Though they have to admit they do fantastic in that department. It’s not just the start of their reunion. It’s the beginning of the rest of their lives. They’re it for each other. Despite not voicing it aloud, with blinding clarity, they know.

“Oliver I…” Felicity shudders, tears of happiness smearing her glasses.

“We’re going to be fine.”

He removes her glasses, placing them on the coffee table. And after what feels like an eternity, they move together. Felicity nips at his earlobe, along the vein of his neck, and wherever she can reach. He grunts at her walls enveloping in a wet heat over and over again until he can’t stand it. She uses his broad shoulders for leverage, though her hands falter when his hips finally snap up against her, meeting her with harsh thrusts of his own.

Their mouths meld into each other, moans vibrating against the other’s lips. The rustle of beans from the IKEA futon would make them both if it isn’t for their current rendezvous. His hands cup her ass tightly, telltale signs of pleasure tingling at the base of his spine. Her thighs quiver as she reaches her end. Oliver’s not far behind, especially when Felicity’s teeth graze his shoulder. He spills into her with long, hot spurts.

Oliver and Felicity hold each other close, needing a brief moment’s respite before they gather extra pillows and blankets by the fireplace for a makeshift bed.

“Wow!” Oliver sighs, bliss radiating off every inch of his face.

Felicity prods, “Are you talking to me or the Rockets highlights?”

“Of course, you.”

The World Series flickers on the TV in the background. For once, Oliver doesn’t pay much attention. He manages to catch the Rockets winning score. They cuddle up in sheets and each other. Their hands drift one another’s numerous scars.

“So Carson isn’t the only one who got a home run tonight?”

Oliver chuckles, “Sorry, sorry. I’ll turn it off.”

“No, I think it’s cute how you fanboy over sweaty bearded dudes in uniform.”

His eyes soak her in, and she his this glow about her sweetness and sin all wrapped in one beautiful woman. Her lips are chapped. Felicity’s cheeks and thighs are littered with beard burn.

A content smile crosses her face. The blue bean bag rustles as Felicity hands her boyfriend his jeans.

His eyebrow quirks, “You kicking me out already, Smoak?”

“Yep, you promised Raisa you’d be home by eleven.” She claps, stealing a smooch, “Oh, but before you go, Honey, can you remove my bra from the ceiling fan?”

“My bad,” Her man shrugs, not sounding apologetic at all.

After Oliver tugs on his pants, he fetches her blue lacy undergarment from the ceiling fan. He flushes at the recent memory.

“Don’t look so smug, Queen.” Felicity clasps her bra, plucking her pink camisole and gray sweatpants off the floor.

He rolls his eyes playfully, “You started it. You knew I was coming over, didn’t you? You did that ping thingy on my phone.”

“Hmm, I know not what you speak of, Mr. Queen. But I’m definitely going to have go down to IKEA on Monday and buy all new chairs.”

Oliver hopes, “Need some company?”

“Maybe,” she teases, stretching out the word. “Hey, one more thing?”

“Shoot.”

“Do you want to go out to dinner next Thursday?”

“Dinner as in a date? Like a date-date?”

“Yeah, look I know we kinda did things a little backwards, so why not? I’ll make reservations at the Italian place we love. Unless, you don’t want to…”

Once Felicity is redressed, Oliver bids good night with one final kiss.

“Does  _that_  answer your question?”

His girlfriend sighs, grinning from ear to ear as she shuts the door. “Uh-huh.”

Felicity makes good use of that new key over the next few days and nights. They finally had time alone in the apartment when William was away for a sleepover at a friend’s place. Though he’s called Raisa, insisting he go back home the next day. Kids can be really mean. Oliver whips his boy up a special brunch — breaded chicken and decadent fluffy homemade waffles with a side of scrambled egg whites. William sits silently at the kitchen island.

“Hey, Buddy. What happened at the sleepover?”

William says nothing, but lifts The Flash backpack up onto the counter with hate messages and crude scribbles drawn all over it.

“Don’t worry, Oliver. I didn’t hit anybody.” He mutters darkly. “But I wanted to.”

“Well, maybe next time I can show you…”

His son snaps, “I already told you, I don’t want to learn how to fight.”

“I don’t want to have to teach you, but sometimes…”

“Look, can we just drop this and eat?”

His father appeases, “Fair enough.”

Felicity throws on her clothes, hoping to appear more presentable before William arrived home. His son’s mood instantly brightens when he spots a petite blonde sneaking out of Oliver’s room.

William calls out as Felicity attempts to exit their apartment, “Good morning, Felicity. Want some orange juice?”

“H-hey kiddo.” She laughs nervously, ambling over with only one boot, “How are you?”

He requests, “I don’t want to know, but I’m glad you could join us for brunch."

“Me too.” Felicity agrees, making him smile, despite the night he’s had just like his father five years and now.

Oliver’s heart warms at the sight of his family.

Raisa comments, sipping her tea, “I remember early mornings like these.”

“You got me there.” He says, voice dropping to a whisper, “But, Felicity, she’s…”

“A keeper.” The nanny surmises with an understanding glance.


	3. Love and Other Drugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity snag dessert multiple times before an old friend returns to Star City. Meanwhile what's going on with Dig? Read on.

( _Originally via 604 "Reversal_ ")

“Hey Dad,” William asks, foot brushing against his ankle, “can I go to dinner with you and Felicity tonight?”

Oliver musses up his son’s hair, “Raisa will be your date tonight.”

“Oh.” His boy frowns, eyes flicking down to his Converse sneakers. Oliver and Felicity have been gone three days to Russia and Central City respectively. It would’ve been nice to spend some quality family time together.

Raisa interjects, lips ticking up in a soft smile. “Yes, William. You and I will have lots of fun.”

“Hey, Bud.” Oliver requests, “Do you mind helping me pick out my tie?”

“And my shoes.” Felicity adds, jabbing her husband’s arm, “We all know your father has the worst fashion sense.”

“Ow!”

That brings a smile to the thirteen year old’s face.

He agrees, “Yeah.”

His step-mother lines three different pairs of shoes in a row — strappy gold sandals, cobalt blue stilettos, and brown leather ankle boots. His father shows him his extensive tie collection.

“Hmm…” William chooses decisively, “You should both go with blue.”

The duo chimes in unison, “Thank you.”

The teen hopes, “How ‘bout we go to Big Belly Burger on Thursday?”

“Now, that sounds like a plan,” approves his dad.

“And um…” William clears his throat, “Do you mind if I bring Zoe?”

Felicity smirks, “Oh! Is this like a little date?”

“Maybe… I don’t know.” His cheeks flush bright red at the question, “She’s pretty badass.”

Oliver reminds, “Language.”

“I’m thirteen.”

“William Connor Clayton.” Felicity steps in sternly.

He corrects, “She’s really awesome, but we’re just friends.”

As if on cue, Rene and Dinah arrive at the Queens’ apartment with Zoe trailing right behind.

“Now that’s what I like to hear, little man.” Rene grins, “Besides my baby girl is too young to date anyone. It’s not impossible for a guy and a girl to be just friends.”

Dinah challenges, “Oh really? Because you and I…”

“Amore, por favor.” Rene cuts in, “C’mon, you know I’m a feminist like that. When Zoe’s ready to date, she’ll tell me. We tell each other everything.”

Zoe pipes up, tugging on the hem of her father’s jersey. “Uh-huh, papi. And right now Zoe wants you to stop talking about her as if she isn't here.”

“Fair enough, peanut.” Rene smooches the crown of her head, “You be good for Raisa. Daddy and D have to go to work.”

She wonders, hand resting on her hip, “Work-work or your night jobs?”

“We’ll be fine, Zo-zo. I got his back.” Dinah squats, gripping the young girl’s shoulders.

Raisa ushers the duos out the door, “Go, go. Or you’ll all be late.

“Bye.” The couples bid with multiple kisses, “Bye. We love you.”

Oliver, Felicity, Rene, and Dinah zip off on the respective Ducatis. Black Siren slums down to bank robberies; this one in particular at Starling National. Curtis has eyes on her. She’s got two armed mercs in tow. Simply routine and nothing Team Arrow can’t handle sans Green Arrow and Overwatch.

Across town, the First Couple of Star City dine at an upscale Italian restaurant. Soft light and candles set the intimate mood. Oliver takes the liberty of ordering a sweet Moscato from the sommelier before their food arrives to the table.

“How long has it been since we had time off from work?” Felicity wonders, taking a sip of her wine.

“Hm, three months,” replies Oliver, leaning in for a kiss, “I missed you, Honey.”

She chuckles, “Apart from my stint at you-know-where. We’ve only been away from each other for a week at best.”

“Too long.”

Their lips are mere centimeters away from each other when a kind elderly lady interrupts at the worst possible time.

“Excuse me, Mr. Mayor?”

Oliver turns his head, “Yes, ma’am.”

“I apologize for the interruption. I just wanted to let you know I’m voting for the Tiny Homes Initiative in The Glades. Those poor people need all the help they can get.”

“Yes, they do.” He concurs, forcing a charming, yet fake politician’s smile on his face. “Remember to vote at the polls in November. Okay?”

“Oh, I will, Mr. Queen.” The diner promises, “I apologize for interrupting your evening, and may I say you two are the sweetest couple. Why you two lovebirds remind me of John Kennedy and Jackie O.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Felicity appeases, “You enjoy your night as well.”

Oliver spies a devilish grin on his wife’s face, “What? Did you pay her to say that?”

“Of course not.” She snort-laughs into her glass, “I just find the Kennedy comparison hilarious when my husband is a literal superhero.”

“Mm, so’s my wife.” Her man continues, picking up right where they left off, “Now where we?”

Caressing his stubble, Felicity meets him halfway, “Right about here.”

They manage to sneak in three kisses before a waiter arrives with their food. The pair dines on a hearty osso bucco and veal risotto interruption free for the rest of the night. Felicity claims she forgot the paperwork for her SQ subsidiary in a green manilla folder at their former loft, which the CEO now uses as an office space for conferences and whatnot. After paying the bill with a generous tip, the Queens depart the bistro and head three blocks over to Merced Avenue.

It’s only the two of them alone in the elevator. Oliver sees this as an opportune time to kiss the Hell out of his wife simply because they can. He winds his arms around her, hands tangling in her wavy blonde locks. They kiss like they haven’t seen each other in three years — not three days. Oliver smooches her entire face before he finally reaches her mouth.

“I really missed you.” He murmurs against her lips.

Rather than teasing her husband about how he already said that, she breaths, “Me too.”

“Yeah?” His voice rumbles in her ear.

Felicity whimpers as his stubble rasps at neck, “Mm-hm. Careful, careful, we don’t want a repeat of what happened last time.”

“I know. I know.” Oliver remembers, even though he’s doing nothing to help matters as he nibbles on her pulse point, “I’m being careful.”

“Ah!” His wife gasps, resolve crumbling like her attempts at pie crust, “Honey.”

Thankfully, the elevator comes to a stop on the eighth floor. That ding is a welcome reprieve. No security footage and more importantly no round two on a second unintentional sex tape. Stupid cameras. They’re everywhere now. Their lips never seem to disconnect when Oliver gently pushes his wife back against the wall, palm slapping against the brick as he keeps Felicity at a safe distance. The stupid need for oxygen becomes too much for them.

Oliver pulls back, whispering, “Dinner went better than expected.”

“And we got through the whole thing.” Felicity smiles, kissing him after every few words, “No major interruptions. No armed mercenaries.”

She yanks his tie, which matches her heels.

“You didn’t forget your paperwork, did you?” Her husband figures, hands cupping her face before he captures her lower lip.

His wife admits, pecking his stubbly jaw before she undoes the knot on his tie. “Nope. Is that a complaint I’m hearing?”

“Hell no.” His nose brushes against hers, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “I just love the way you think.”

“Mmm,” Felicity bites her lip, pulling him over to the front door, “I was hoping you did.”

His lips tug up in a soft grin; full of promise and pure need for each other, “So do we still have room for dessert?”

“Always,” answers his wife. Oliver makes it very difficult to type in the code for their smart lock when he squeezes her ass and his head swoops down to kiss the scar on her shoulder. She erupts in a giggle fit, “H-honey, stop. Stop.”

She doesn’t want him to stop, but Felicity will never be able to open the door if he keeps this up. He shoves his hands into his pockets. Oliver waits patiently. They don’t even bother to flick on the lights. His eyebrow raises in surprise when Felicity throws him up against the nearby support beam. A moan vibrates against her mouth. Felicity claws into the fabric of his white dress shirt. She urges him back, and they tumble onto the small leather couch.

“Oh!” Oliver grunts as his wife accidentally knees him in the Queen family jewels.

“Sorry.” His girl huffs out an apology before she peppers his face with gentle kisses, “Sorry.”

Despite the pain, Oliver smiles, “That’s okay.”

They moan into a hot makeout session. His calloused hands drift from her ass up to her back. Their hips thrust against each other, regardless of how tiny this couch is. It’s definitely not the first time they’ve had office sex. Felicity chucks off his tie, ripping open the buttons of his shirt before she even removes his jacket.

Felicity grits, “Damn, I can’t move in this skirt.”

“Want some help?” Oliver offers with a chuckle.

He palms her butt cheeks and rather than unzipping the pencil skirt, Oliver playfully squeezes her ass again before he tears the fabric. She yelps in surprise, though Felicity should’ve expected nothing less. Her husband occasionally pounds a slab of concrete with a massive sledgehammer for exercise. So ripping through a thick tweed skirt is a piece of cake.

He looks as if he’s almost about to ask for forgiveness. But damn, that move is hot as Hell. Oliver’s thumbs pool in her dimples.

His wife waves off, “I never liked that thing anyway. My mother got it for me as an early Hanukkah gift.”

“Less talking, more kissing,” insists her husband.

“Okay, okay. We’re a little overdressed though, my love.”

They remedy that in an instint. Their formal attire is left in a heaping pile on the floor. Oliver and Felicity haven’t gotten undressed that fast since they’ve tested a new explosive compound on one of his trick arrow his wife designed. Curtis tripped and haphazardly spilled the dangerous substance on their workout gear.

Despite the absence of light in their former loft, Oliver utters in a sweet tone reserved solely for her. “You’re beautiful.”

Felicity flushes at the compliment, yet she has far less romantic plans on her mind. This moment is loving. No time for slow. His wife directs, “Sit up.”

“What? Why?”

Felicity sinks down on her knees, and suddenly the picture becomes vibrantly clear in Oliver’s mind. The morning he dropped off at the airport for a business trip to Central City, Oliver woke his wife up with his head between her legs. She was almost late for her flight, but promised to return the favor as soon as she returned home.

Her nails rake over his thighs.

He gulps, “Felicity, Baby, you don’t have to… Shit!”

His sentence is cut off when she strokes his cock at the perfect pressure. It trembles in her hand, and a string of expletives fall from his lips. Her hand feel amazing, but that’s nothing compared when she sucks on the tip of his dick, tasting a bead of precum. Her mouth envelopes him further as Felicity strokes what she can’t taste. She alternates between sucking and tonguing the vein along his dick. Oliver’s free hand is white knuckling the couch. Leather squeaks under his nails. If she doesn’t stop, he’s going to lose it. Oliver knows the second her gaze meets his, he’s a goner.

Felicity’s eyelids flutter. Much to her displeasure, Oliver shakily gathers her up off the floor, pulling his wife into his strong arms.

“But you didn’t…” She catches her breathe. He’s about ready to kiss her, “Wait, I just…”

Her husband denies, “I don’t care. I want you.”

His mouth slants overs hers in a passionate frenzy. It’s astounding after all these years together, despite one measly year of marriage, how their kisses leave one another breathless. She bites his lip when he carries over to the kitchen. At this point, Oliver’s dangerously close to reading her mind. There is absolutely no time for slow. The rough pads of his fingertips graze her folds before he finds her entrance with ease. His fingers are harsh and demanding. It’s just what she needs. He pumps in and out of her, and it isn’t his thumb massages his clitoris, Felicity reaches her end, much quicker than she would’ve liked. A shout echoes on the walls of her office. His digits are coated in her arousal as he works her through an orgasm. Her walls pulse around him still as she falls limp against his scarred bare chest.

“Give me a sec.” Felicity rasps against his skin.

He plants a smooch atop of her head, obliging, “Of course.”

His fingers trace over her numerous scars — evidence of her arousal now lingering on her skin. Felicity pushes at his broad shoulders. Her arms and legs wrap around him. Oliver grabs her chin. They kiss for the upteenth time that night. He leads away from the counter, his cock slipping through her wetness before he finds that all-consuming heat.

Felicity meets him with rapid little thrusts of her own. Flesh smacks against flesh as they move together in practically a blur of speed, desire, and lust. It isn’t long until they find pleasure in each other, mere seconds apart. Felicity nips at his shoulder blade, clawing into his back. Oliver grunts into the crook of her neck before they collapse against the edge of the counter in a tangled mess of limbs. Thankfully, Oliver cushions their fall. Moans and groans mingle with each other when he pulls out of her. Their skin sticks together with sweat, although Felicity leaves his side for a moment to slip into his shirt.

He feigns offense at her adorable shirt thievery.

“What?” She shrugs, leaving the wrinkled garment unbuttoned for a sinfully stunning view, “You know I look cuter in your shirt, Queen.”

He cocks his head, resembling a puppy, “You won’t hear any argument from me.”

Her bare feet pad the floor, traipsing over to the conference table. With a quirk of her eyebrow, his wife prompts, “Well?”

“Again?”

“I mean, the scientist in me wants to find out if this table is sturdy enough.”

Her husband intones, “Really? For experimental purposes, huh?”

“Exactly.”

He smirks, “Okay, Dr. Queen.”

“Mm, I do love it when you call me doctor.”

They make love, much slower the second time around and cuddle together on a green blanket and couch cushions. Felicity’s stomach rumbles, which makes Oliver laugh like he hasn’t in years. Granted, they exerted a lot of energy.  He tucks himself into his pants. Oliver whips up a decadent brandy caramel drizzle to go with some fresh pear slices and French vanilla bean ice cream.

Felicity’s nose wrinkles, “Is safe to be cooking over an open flame with your shirt off?”

“Nope.” Her husband replies smugly, “But you know you love it, Babe.”

“True.” She questions, “Are you sure it’s sanitary? We had sex a few inches away from the counter.”

“We’ll be alright. Like you said, we were away from the counter.”

They indulge in an actual dessert after the more fun kind of dessert.

Felicity stands on her tip toes, nose prodding his back, “Thanks Honey.”

Luckily, for them, Oliver and Felicity have a spare change of clothes in a narrow coat closet since this isn’t their first newlywed office romp. They sneak back into the apartment before William wakes up. Raisa hears a creak on the floor, grabbing Oliver’s autographed baseball bat. Felicity’s key clink as she steps behind her husband

“Haaa!” She screams, springing up in robe, “Intruders.”

“Woah, woah, Raisa, it’s us. Put the bat down please.”

Full awake, the nanny takes a cleansing breath, “My apologies. Oliver, Felicity.”

Her boss acknowledges, “It’s okay. Protecting William is what’s most important.”

“Dessert run late again?”

Oliver and Felicity exchange knowing glances.

Raisa teases, “Lovely new outfits.”

Felicity giggles, and Oliver’s grin is a mile wide.

He’s about to cook breakfast for his family when his phone rings. Felicity pulls the mobile device out of his back pocket. She would’ve teased him about his “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” ringtone, although when someone calls this early in the morning, it’s usually important.

“Thank you.” Her husband chimes. “Hello?”

His voice softens, “Hi. Mm-hm. Okay? I’ll be right over.”

Hugging her husband as he ends the call, Felicity says, “That didn’t sound like John or the team. Please don’t tell me Slade Wilson needs your help. His son tried to remove your left eye for payback.”

Raisa gasps when Felicity says that bit of information in a strange calm tone.

“No.” He promises, hands blanketing hers. “It’s Dr. Schwartz. She said a kid named Jason Todd came to her ER.”

“Roy.”

Oliver says gravely, “He’s in trouble.”

Felicity can’t speak. Her mouth forms a small ‘o’.

Just outside strip as day breaks, Dig’s eyes widen when his hand tremors cease. He discards the needle into trash can full of soot and debris.

“Mr. Diggle.” Ricardo Diaz warns in an eerily calm tone. “As I told your little friend, Arsenal was it? You owe me money.”

Four brutish thugs surround as a man known on these streets as The Dragon unsheathes his sword. The metal glint flashes before his eyes as Oliver, Felicity, and William rush off to Starling General.


	4. Repercussions

( _Originally via 605 "Deathstroke Returns_ ")

_**Previously on The Journey Home** _

“Roy.”

Oliver says gravely, “He’s in trouble.”

Felicity can’t speak. Her mouth forms a small ‘o'.

Just outside strip as day breaks, Dig’s eyes widen when his hand tremors cease. He discards the needle into trash can full of soot and debris.

“Mr. Diggle.” Ricardo Diaz warns in an eerily calm tone. “As I told your little friend, Arsenal was it? You owe me money.”

Four brutish thugs surround as a man known on these streets as The Dragon unsheathes his sword. The metal glint flashes before his eyes as Oliver, Felicity, and William rush off to Starling General.

* * *

Heart monitors hold a steady beat. The important thing is that Roy’s alive. Oliver and Felicity wait in stunned silence. William remains outside with Rene while Thea is off God Knows where. They figure she would want to stay, but right before her brother and sister-in-law arrived to Starling General, Thea ran off with a familar red suit.

Oliver growls lowly with his arms, “Come on, kid. Fight it.”

“He will.” Felicity believes because she feels it in every fiber of her being, “He’s strong.”

A memory flashes in Oliver’s mind, “Don’t abandon me.”

“Never,” promises his mentor.

Felicity sniffles, clutching her friend’s fingertips gently while her husband’s eyes fixate on that goddamn monitor.

Just outside the hallway, William sits in a blue chair huddled up in a green hoodie, looking as frightened as his did the moment Oliver found him on Lian Yu.

Rene advises, “Hey, little man. You should eat something.”

“Not hungry.”

“You know Zo-Zo usually doesn’t eat when something’s bugging her. Buddy, I know I’m not your dad, but you can talk to me.”

William appears wary. His Uncle Rene is usually the biggest jokester of Team Arrow, but Felicity always mentions he should never bottle things up. After his father is living proof of that fact. Concern flits over the young man’s face.

He dares to ask, “Is Uncle Roy going to be okay?”

“Yeah, William. No worries. Dr. Schwartz is a livesaver.”

“Good.” The preteen admits, fiddling with the oatmeal bar, “Because with my dad being who he is, I just-I.”

“He’s not alone anymore, kiddo. And when we’re out there, we’re out there together. I got his back. So did Aunt D. Otherwise your pops would kick all our as— butts, butts if we’re weren’t.”

William understands, taking a tiny bite of his snack, “Hmm… I know.”

Across town in an alleyway just outside a strip club called The Blue Fox, Diggle is surrounded by Drago along with his four burly associates. John fights as best he can. This isn’t his first jump, but with the tremors in his hand, it’s as if John is in a losing battle with one hand tied behind his back. A bone-crunching kick knocks the former solder down to the concrete.

Drago orders, snapping his fingers with a devilish smirk, “Finish him.”

John’s bloody and bruised. His tank is dangerously close to running on empty. A flash of red and black leather ziplines down off the rooftop. Dinah’s sonic scream takes care of the two men on John’s side. Despite her small size, Thea dressed as Speedy knocks one guy who’s twice her size with a grab of his gun along with a swift kick to the shins. Black Canary and Speedy handle the last assailant with a cry and a net arrow, pinning him against a brick. Right as Thea vaults towards Ricardo Diaz, the man who put her beloved in the emergency room, he disappears without a trace.

“Dammit.” Thea grits, bow clattering to the ground. “I almost had him.”

Dinah redirects, “We’ll get Drago, but John needs help.”

“I’m fine.” John rasps, wiping the blood of his mouth with his shaky hand, “Wha-What?” He coughs, “What is that? Marriage of the Traveling Super suit.”

Thea’s eyes widen in her mask, “How did you…? Ollie and Felicity don’t even know.”

“It might have something to do with the infinity symbol tattooed on your neck, sweetle.” Dinah points out, tracing the spot.

Spitting blood and mucus, Dig appreciates, “Thanks for the quick rescue, ladies.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, we can’t leave the saving of the day to the guys. Now let’s go down to the bunker. I'm sure Felicity will patch you up for old time’s sake.”

Indeed she does. Hours later as the sun sets over Star City's skyline, Roy awakes from his sedated state. It’s like pulling teeth. However, Roy and Thea finally admit not only to their quickie marriage at a courthouse in Jump City, but to the drugs Thea’s been taking to quell her bloodlust.

“I’m sorry.” Roy whispers, “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect her.”

Oliver concedes with a heavy heart, “You were both doing what you thought was right. Lord knows, I went to Hell and back to save my sister’s life.”

“You’re disappointed in us, aren’t you, Ollie?”

Pulling her in for a hug, Oliver presses a smooch atop his sister’s head, “In you, Speedy, never. But I do want you to be safe. You didn’t sign up for this life.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Roy protests weakly. “We want to help.”

“We can…”

“No.” Felicity interrupts, “When Dr. Schwartz gives Roy the okay, go to Central City, Cait and Cisco have been working on a cure for Thea’s bloodlust among other things.”

“Felicity, there’s no way you could’ve…”

“Come on, Thea. It’s Felicity, you really think you could up and leave town, even under a different name, and we wouldn’t keep a close eye on you.”

Thea and Roy ride off into the night en route to Central City. While the young newlyweds jump into the fray when need be, this isn’t their life anymore. Roy works as a mechanic in Jump City thanks to a good word from Jax and Victor while Thea handles being Mayor Marianna Perez’s Chief of Staff. John, following several attempts to fix the tremors in his hand, decides to lone ranger it. Despite Oliver and Felicity’s best efforts, John chose to go it alone, especially after he and Lyla took some time off from their marriage. She, Sara, and J.J, are temporarily residing in Chicago with their Aunt Melinda.

The salmon ladder rungs clink as Rene climbs higher and higher. Dinah tests out Curtis’ device to amplify her Canary Cry. Star City’s resident power couple are going a few rounds on the training mats.

“Ugh,” His wife grunts as Oliver flips her on the mat like a pancake, “I almost had you that time.”

Oliver settles on top of her, gently as if they’re in bed on a Sunday morning, “We still need to work on control on your left side, it makes sense that your non-dominant side would be weaker. You’re getting better, but you still have a ways to go, young padawan.”

“Look at that.” The sweaty blonde hacker feigns a gasp, “You do pay attention when we watch _Star Wars_.”

“Yeah.” Her husband huffs, scooping Felicity up off the floor. “You know I don’t like teaching you or William to fight, but…”

His son and wife recite harmoniously, “you have to because it’s what our family does.”

“Exactly.” He chuckles, brushing back the frazzled mess of blonde locks away from her face, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Oliver apologizes profusely, peppering her face with kisses.

“Honey, I’ve told you a million times, it’s fine. I want to learn how to fight.”

Dinah smiles, chucking a rag at her boyfriend, “How come you never do that with me?”

“Because you’re the one who usually knocks me on my as— butt, mama. Sorry, Hoss. I keep forgetting your boy’s here.”

William shrugs, glancing up from his biology textbook, “It’s cool.”

“Good.” Oliver swears, “As soon as Felicity and I work on her knife-throwing skills…”

“Knife-throwing.” His son mouths, face crumpling into an expression, which reads, “I can’t believe this is our life.”

“We can go home. Your dad made some chicken cordon bleu for dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan. Can you still help me on my bio project, Felicity? Please it’s worth thirty percent of my grade this semester.”

“Of course, little dude. You’re looking at Nevada’s three-time science fair champ.”

Her husband snorts, “Only three?"

“Yeah.” Her nude lips purse, “Again, what is it with county officials not letting freshman enter? I mean, I’m not still bummed at all. Totally not.”

Three quicks swigs, and the duo ventures over to the target area, where Oliver and Felicity test out the Emerald Archer’s speciality arrows.

A butcher knife is unbalanced.” Oliver reminds, stepping behind his wife, “But it doesn’t mean, you can’t use it in the field.”

“Okay, so show me.”

The metal glint of Felicity’s knife gleams under the bunker’s florescent lights.

“Any weapon you use is not the key. It’s an extension of your body. Your body becomes the weapon.”

She jokes, “Hai, sensei.”

“ _Felicity_.”

His voice is in full Green Arrow mode.

“Lighten up, we’re not even in the field yet, my love.”

He pinches his furrowed brow.

“I know. I know. I just worry.”

Felicity smiles, reminding, “As long as we have each other.”

“Okay.” He instructs, guiding her arm and waist, “Breathe with me.”

Two deep breaths – synchronized as only Oliver and Felicity can be, the pair moves as one. They shift their weight from their back to front legs, aim, and throw.

The knife cuts through the air, missing Rene by a hair.

“Hey ma, pops, what the Hell?” Their teammate grumbles, clearly affronted.

Felicity chimes, “I did it.”

“That was better.” Oliver’s lips tilt in a gentle smile, “Let’s go again.”

Pride muddles on William’s features as well. Though, it quickly dissipates when he stares at the glass case of verdant pointy arrows. He’s actually much better behind a keyboard. The issue is, much like his Aunt T, he doesn’t hope this hero lifestyle will be his own. He wants to be a good reporter like his mother. He wants to honor his mom’s legacy. A pit sinks to the bottom of his stomach when a signal beeps from Overwatch’s workstation.

“You have to go, don’t you?” Their son surmises, a frown pulling at his bow shaped mouth.

Felicity cups his cheek, “Uh-huh, but we’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Oliver hates to say this. “We need everybody in the field.”

“Well, unless you have another plan. I need to be out there with you to stop the Arclight reactor. Knowing James and Drago, I can’t stop it remotely. I have to be on site.”

“Go now.” William urges the team as they suit up, “Only let Raisa into the bunker, I know the drill.”

Five masked heroes, including Overwatch, who’s in a purple leather suit with a special mask and added tech features. Ninjas swoop down from the rafters of the huge abandoned airport hanger. Seriously? What is with bad guys and either warehouses or abandonment airports?

“Hey.”

His wife cuts in, “I’ve got this. I just need you to cover me, so I can get to the reactor.”

“I know.” He says, holding her tight just as the combatants approach, “Just be careful.”

She offers her husband a small smile, “Always am.”

“Every one.” The Green Arrow commands in full growly deep voice modulator, “Delta formation, now!”

Looks like something John taught him stuck. Four heroes take on five of Drago’s faction of longbow hunters. They clear a path for Overwatch to close in her target unscathed. Mid-fight, Curtis has to speak up about this since it’s bugging him.

“You know as much as I love busting up some bad guys.” Mister Terrific notes, punching a man square in the jaw, “With me in the field and Spartan, AWOL, we need someone to run comms.”

As if on cue, his communicator beeps and William interjects, “One time deal. But I’m your guy.”

“Will-” Oh, Oliver can’t use his full name during a mission.

His son supplies after a moment, “Hmm... How ‘bout Codebreaker, Dad?"

“Codebreaker.” He growls, knocking his adversary’s skull with a small red dragon tattoo on it against a door, “You were supposed to go with-.”

“I’m right here, Oliver.” Raisa assures, “He’s your son. Do you really think I can tell the boy no when he only wants to help.”

“Oh,” His stepmother whispers-yells, equally scary with her own voice modulator, “You are going to be in so much trouble when we get home, young man.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Her eyebrows raise, “Do you actually have eyes on the reactor?”

“Mm-hm.” William says, eyes scouring the screen, “It’s under an old crop duster plane. But I see two bad ass looking guys on the roof headed your way.”

Upon hearing this, Oliver shoots a long range arrow, trapping him in a cable net. The other one isn’t so lucky. This large man sprints to the reactor, grabbing Felicity as she runs in mid-air. She doesn’t even need to throw the damn knife. Overwatch just stabs him in the thigh.

“Overwatch, sitrep.” Codebreaker requests.

The Green Arrow reassures, “She’s fine, little man.”

He’s not by her side at the moment, but Oliver simply knows it in his bones.

Overwatch whips out her tablet, cooling down the reactor’s cool digitally in the nick of time.

“You little bitch!” A female enemy screeches, using a throwing star.

Codebreaker warns, “Watch out!”

Felicity dodges, yet gets hit in the shoulder. Oliver runs to her aid before his wife hits the ground.

“God,” Overwatch breathes heavily, “Oh…”

“Hey, it’s alright. I gotcha. I gotcha.”

Thankfully, it’s just a graze. The team returns to their bunker with Oliver applying pressure to Felicity’s wound.

“If I warned you a second earlier.” William covers his face.

She winces, “It’s just a scratch.”

He looks at the bloody rag in disbelief.

“There’s a learning curve to everything, Buddy. I should’ve been right there by her side.

Felicity groans from both pain and annoyance, “It’s repercussions of the job. I knew what I signed up for well before I married you. So will you two quit playing the blame game?”

Oliver hoists his wife onto the medbay table, insisting, “Raisa, take him home please.”

“Of course,” The nanny nods dutifully.

Rene and Dinah leave them be. As soon as they do, Oliver and Felicity kiss as if it’s their last one.

The blonde hacker giggles, “Maybe I should go in the field more often.”

“You know how I feel about that, Baby. If tonight is any indication…”

“Hey.” She snipes, “We did what we had to do, and I’m proud of that.”

He relents, “This will sting a little.”

“Mmph, it’s not so bad.” Granted, the tear smear on her glasses speak otherwise.

“I know. I know. Just one stitch, then I have to pull tight.”

She nearly breaks Dinah’s hand in the process, but it’s done.

“Nice work,” Felicity admires, wearing another scar like a badge of honor, “At least my shoulders match.”

“Hon, please.”

“It could’ve been a lot worse.”

Oliver doesn’t even want to think about that. Felicity interlaces their fingertips, “Let’s go home.”

After some normalcy — science projects and chicken cordon bleu — William endures a long lecture about listening for safety reasons, which also results in a week of no video games.

“Well, looks like we’ll be getting the silent treatment for a little while. Oliver, what are you doing? I hope you aren’t planning on going anywhere without your wife.”

Felicity waits for a response, skimming her husband’s arm.

“I just booked three tickets to Aruba tomorrow on Ferris Air. You know Drago’s M.O., he usually lays low after a loss.”

“Woah, woah, Mr. Impulsive Decision, how could you do this without consulting me? Is this all because of what happened tonight? I’m fine.”

“I-we just need a moment to ourselves, It’s been awhile. And I know for a fact you can go over schematics with Curtis, Zari, Alena, and Lily via video chat.”

“Okay, what about City Hall?”

“Quentin’s covering for me.”

She checks, “The team?”

“Rene says he’s got it handled, but we both know Di will keep him in line.”

“William’s schoolwork?”

“His teachers can e-mail me, and he’s not missing any tests this week.”

“Wow!” His wife whistles, “You really have thought of everything. Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?”

Dimples pool in his cheeks, “So is that a yes?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this.” Felicity unhooks a bikini from the hanger, “But looks like we’re going to Aruba, Baby.”


	5. The One with the Late Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queens have a late Thanksgiving in Coast City, though it doesn't go interruption-free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HVFF Atlanta kept me glued to Twitter and Tumblr last weekend, and I wasn't even there in person. So I decide whenever there's a con, I know I won't write fanfic. I do hope y'all enjoy this belated Thanksgiving story. It's my personal favorite holiday

( _Originally via 607 "Thanksgiving"_ )

Moonlit glows peeks between their cream colored curtains. Per us, Oliver wakes before his alarm. 5:00AM burns in bright red text. His azure eyes open gradually. Scrubbing crusty remains of slumber from his eyelids, he sneaks out of bed. Oliver’s lips tick up in a soft smile, leaving his wife to her pleasant dreams. Felicity stirs when the mattress dip, yet doesn’t move a muscle. After trips to Gotham, Star City’s Police Officer’s charity gala, and one final stop at a soup kitchen in the Glades. The Queen family need some rest and relaxation. They traveled to their friends, Hal and Carol’s neck of the woods, Coast City, for a late Thanksgiving feast. Felicity’s palm slaps against nothing, but empty mattress.

“Oliver.” She grumbles into her pillow, “Why are you up this early? You usually don’t go out for your jog until six.”

“Shh…” He whispers, pressing a kiss to her frazzled locks, “Go back to sleep. I have to put the turkey in the oven.”

“Mm, anything I can do to help?”

“I love you, Felicity, but please no.”

Felicity snipes, “ _Hey_.”

She chucks a pillow at him, noting how he’s the number one husband this morning,

“Would coffee make with peppermint creamer it up to you?”

“And?”

“And my pumpkin pancakes.”

His wife beckons, voice husky with disuse, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in bed a little longer?”

Felicity’s definitely not an early riser. Her hair is a nest of tangles, but her body is pure seduction wrapped in maroon sheets with not a stitch on. After William fell asleep, Felicity was apparently still on Gotham time, and it’s been a little while. Their anniversary may be three days away, but last night almost rivaled their honeymoon in Bali. Granted, they were mindful of William, who was thankfully two doors down from them. And he sleeps like a bear in hibernation rid of his night terrors.

“Tempting,” He bids with one final smooch, “But I promised William we’d make the stuffing together at eleven, which means I need to start the bird now.”

Felicity feigns offense, “If this is where our marriage is going, mister, after only a year, you’re in trouble.”

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

Indeed he does as her husband returns with a short stack of pumpkin pancakes, coffee wafting with the strong aromas of mocha and peppermint, and a couple poinsettias in a small vase, which he’s clearly snatched from the living room.

“Damn, it’s tough to be mad at you when you cook like that.”

He boops her nose, “You love it.”

“I really do.” She concurs with a fork full of pancakes stuffed to one cheek.

Oliver sits cross-legged on his side of the bed, simply watching her eat. He’s never had more to be thankful for — his wife, son, and sister are all he ever needs. William raps softly at the door.

“Can I come in?”

Felicity tugs on her MIT sweatshirt while the duvet covers her lower half.

“Of course.”

His father greets, ruffling his hair, “Smelt the pancakes, didn’t you, Buddy?”

“Yes I did,” the teen nods, licking his lips.

William smartly comes prepared with fork in hand.

Patting Oliver’s side, his step-mother obliges “The more the merrier.”

“Alright.” Oliver chuckles, slipping in his green hoodie and sneakers, “I’m go for a run.”

“Bye,” His loved ones mutter — more focused on Felicity’s childhood favorite, _A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving_.

Five miles later, Oliver returns to see Felicity and William playing video games by the fireplace. She clears her throat, hand resting on her hip.

“William, why don’t you go wash up in the bathroom before you and your dad whip up some stuffing?”

His eyebrow quirks, “Okay… why can’t I just use the kitchen sink?”

“Ah.” Felicity fibs, “It’s draining slow, so bathroom please.”

“Yes, Felicity.” William says, voice dropping to a whisper, “Good luck, Dad.”

His wife prompts, “So have a nice run, did you?”

“Yeah, listen there was a mugging…”

“Ugh,” The blonde hacker reminds, tone seething with annoyance at every word, “Oliver Jonas Queen, we talked about this. We’re supposed to be on vacation, and Coast City is Hal’s responsibility. Besides what if someone you without a mask.”

“Oh, no one saw me, Felicity. I could just let the guy get away. Clarissa needed that money to buy cat food.”

Eyeing him up and down.she wonders, “Are you hurt?”

“Please.” He swears with an air of confidence, “The guy was no bigger than Barry, so I left CCPD an early Christmas gift.”

“Okay.” Felicity hugs him from behind, “Just try to take it easy. You know we can’t do this forever.”

William and Oliver make stuffing in the bird and out of it with Felicity being their official taste tester. Though she also helped by making the cranberry sauce from scratch. Turkey and all the fixin’s are finished for a late lunch. Hal and Carol arrive with the dinner rolls, a bottle of Malbec, and some cold cranberry cider for the youngest Queen family. Felicity queues her three computer monitors for a group video chat with Roy, Thea, her mom, Quentin, Rene, Dinah, and Zoe.

Waves crash right by their front yard. Felicity and William’s sand castle washes away. Loved ones pop up on screen, and despite the distance, they dig into their late lunches as a wonderfully weird blended family. They each go around the room, to discuss the best and worst parts of their day. However, Oliver’s phone buzzes in the bread basket.

“Ooh, he touched his phone first.” Hal notes, pointing a finger at his friend. “You owe me a buck, Queen.”

Carol points out, thumping the back of his head, “Babe, it could an emergency. Chill.”

“Hello.” Oliver greets in full mayor mode.

His tone grows gentler, “Hi. Oh my God…”

“Hon?”

“Dad?”

“Alright.” He swears, “No, Raisa, it’s not a problem at all.”

Thanksgiving gets cut short. The Queen family rushes to Raisa’s side. She, unfortunately, had to undergo an emergency appendectomy.

“Oliver, Felicity, William..” The nanny attempts to sit up, but pain pulls at her new scar, “I’m fine.”

Tears blur the teen’s eyes, “No, you’re not.”

“Hey.” His step-mom assures, squeezing William’s left arm, “She will be kiddo. Dr. Schwartz told us the surgery went perfect.”

“You all don’t need to be here.” Raisa insists with a nod.

Slipping out of Roy’s embrace, Thea says, “We want to be.”

“But what about…?”

Thea steps up, “I can handle my nephew for a week or so, if it’s cool with you, little dude.”

“It’s totally cool with me, Auntie Thea.”

“You just focus on recovery and getting better, my friend.” Oliver reminds, palm sweeping through her raven and gray locks, much like she did to the Queens when they were younger.

“Yeah.” Thea smiles, holding her hand, “We have everything we need right here.”

“I’ve never been more thankful for anything. C’mere.” Oliver pulls Felicity and William into his embrace, pressing a soft kiss to his son’s head, “You too.”

This Thanksgiving results in crappy hospital food, but as long as they have family surrounding them, nothing else matters. Oliver stares at the city skyline with his wife and son in his arms. A tinge of sadness washes over him, John Diggle, drowns his holiday woes with a shot of whiskey while Lyla puts Sara and J.J. to bed. His hand tremors as he sets the glass down on the coffee table.

“Johnny, you and I need to talk in the morning.”

Alcohol stains his breath, “I know, Sweetie.”

“We’ve got some stuff to figure out, but you and I will be fine.”

As he fluffs his pillow for a night on the couch, John’s eyelids grow heavy. Before he drifts off into another drunken slumber, he doubts, “Will they be okay?”


	6. Year One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anniversary smut because actual Olicity are married now.

“City of Stars” plays through the speakers. Felicity’s glossed lips tick up in a soft smile. She and Oliver sit side by side on a white quilted couch. The Glossy Starling recently reopened to specular reviews. Oliver’s eyes flick around the room. Flashes of Tommy and himself appear in his mind, and with one look at his wife they fade like ghosts. Yet a twinge of sadness sparks in his heart.

“Oliver? Oliver? Earth to Oliver.”

Felicity damn near waves her hands in front his face, but the subtle prick of her festive holiday nails draws her husband’s attention back to the here and now.

“Sorry, sorry. I was just—”

His wife wore a black cardigan, polka dot top, skinny jeans, and boots. But to him, Felicity appears brighter, clearer, and more radiant. Everyone else pales in comparison. She flushes slightly at the look in his azure eyes. For a moment, it’s as if his watch stops ticking away on his wrist. They gaze into one another’s eyes with such adoration, love, and a real sense of true happiness.

Oliver regains his bearings, breath hitching, “You look beautiful.”

“I’m in my work clothes.” She scoffs, poking his chest.

He feigns hurt, interlacing their fingertips, “Ow!”

Felicity undoes a couple large buttons on his favorite black peacoat. She traces the scar under his navy t-shirt, where his Bravata tattoo once remained in consolation.

“You were thinking about Tommy.”

It’s not a question. Felicity can read her husband, similar to lines of code.

“Yes.” Her husband admits, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “But that doesn’t matter because tonight is about celebrating the most important day of our lives.”

His wife’s lips press together in a thin line. “Okay, but Honey, if you want to talk about it, we can take a minute.”

“Maybe later.” Oliver’s voice dips to Green Arrow level low, and it does all the right things for her. “Right now is about you, me, and how we had one Hell of a first year of marriage.”

“Yeah.” She sighs, inching closer. Their mouths are mere centimeters apart, although a host interrupts comes by to sit the First Couple of Star City to their table.

“Mr. Mayor, Mrs. Queen…”

Felicity corrects, “Smoak-Queen.”

“Smoak-Queen, of course, ma’am. Right this way to your table.”

The duo departs from a small white quilted loveseat. They head over a gold painted elevator as the host pops on an elevator operator cap.

“Wow!” The blond hacker whistles, resting her hand in Oliver’s back pocket. “This is the fanciest bar I’ve ever been to.”

“Uh-huh.” The off-duty Emerald Archer nods, “They’ve really cleaned up the place.”

“Going down.”

“Down?” Felicity inquires, clawing at her husband’s sleeve as the doors close. “I thought we were eating in the main dining area.”

“Mmhm. I thought I’d surprise with something a bit more fun.”

A crinkle knits between her eyebrows.

“Oliver, my love, you know how much I _hate_ surprises.”

“Oh, I think you’ll like this one, Honey.”

The host escorts Star City’s power couple down a narrow hallway.

Oliver knows precisely three times before a gruff man’s eyes appear through a slot in the door, “What’s the password?”

He recites, “Blind monkey.”

“Wrong-o, Pallie.” The slot slides closed, metal scraping against wood.

Oliver pounds on the door, “How ‘bout I’m the may, Jimmy boy. Open up.”

“Fine.”

The gruff man grants them entrance after unlocking a set on the deadbolt.

“It’s blind tiger, Queenie. So what you and your lady in the mood for tonight?”

“Wait!” Felicity huffs, cleariy affront, “You know this guy?”

“Of course, Jimmy’s parents used to work at my father’s steel mill.”

“I thought we were going to get shot, you idiot!” His wife uses her angry voice, fuming mad, “On our anniversary of all nights.”

“What?” His mouth falls agape as his wife commandeers a vacant table, “Baby, you love. themed restaurants. GS does the whole speakeasy theme.”

“The food better be good, Queen.”

Jimmy dons his chef apron, “Tough break, my friend. You know, Mrs. Queen...”

“ _Ms. Smoak_ ,” his customer snaps, refusing to make eye contact.

He offers, “We got the best grub this side of the Washington state line.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll just see about that, Buster.”

Oliver orders sliders, seared scallops, and lettuce wraps while Felicity partakes in her gin Rickey.

“Felicity, you can’t be that mad at me, can you?”

The familiar scents of food wafts as a few plates make their way to the table. He remembered, although no amount of charm will help her husband worm his way out of this predicament. Oliver stares at his wife with these big, apologetic eyes.

She breaks out into a little giggle.

“God, you’re so easy.”

“Hold up, you aren’t really mad?”

“Nope.” His wife denies with a pop of the p. “I just like to keep you on your toes.”

“Woman, you made my heart jump out of my chest.”

“Yep, so now you know what it feels like it, dude.”

He relents, patting his leg, “Come here, so we can at least sit in the same city.”

“Glossy Starling straddles city limits.”

Her husband fills in, “Half in Star City, half in Seattle.”

Felicity’s mood immediately brightens, “That’s pretty cool. Tell me more.”

She plops onto his lap. Oliver’s favorite subject in school was truancy, but every now and again, he took a particular liking to all sorts of English Literature. This bar was a nod to his childhood as well, days of the past when Raisa would read him exciting tales of Flynn Jackson, a sort of Robin Hood of the 1920’s who would steal from the rich and give to poor. The end of every story concluded with Flynn drinking “apple juice” as his nanny fudge at a secret local eatery. In retrospect, perhaps Oliver should have led with that as opposed to giving his love quite the scare.

Oliver’s fingers itch to reach his phone at the center of the table by their second appetizer. Felicity makes a silent gesture as an “Of course.”

“Hey, Speedy.”

“Dad?”

“Where’s your Aunt Thea?”

He chuckles, draping a wool blanket over her, “Aunt Thea conked out over pizza. She’s had a very tough day.”

“Put it on speaker.” Felicity mouths, clearing her throat, “Hey, teenager, just because your sitter’s catching some z’s. You know it’s lights out by 9:30.”

“But.”

“No, but’s, kiddo. It’s a school night."

“Dad, come on. I’m thirteen.”

“Bed by 9:30. It’s a school night, and if you don’t, I can guarantee Felicity and I will bright and early.”

“Alright, I hear you. Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

His parents laugh. They nibble on the rest of their food. Oliver stabs his fork into the last scallop, offering his wife the final bite.

“Oh, you want to feed me, and be that cheesy annoying couple?” She surmises with an amused eyebrow raise.

Dimples pool in his cheeks.

“We’re always that cheesy annoying couple.”

“Yeah.”

Felicity indulges him, taking a bite off his fork.

He whispers in an intimate tone reserved only for her, “You really do love me.”

“Always.” Her breath ghosts over his lips.

Oliver and Felicity pick up right where they left off by the hostess stand. It’s a kiss they’ve been waiting all night for. He nibbles on her lower lip, and Felicity’s hands sneak into his peacoat. Suddenly they are unaware of other diners until chef and owner Jimmy pops by with a final plate.

“Dessert?”

“Mmph,” Felicity says, “We didn’t order any- Oh, it’s our reception cake.”

“Not exactly. You know I thought the vanilla cake your mother ordered was gross. Don’t tell her.”

She jokes, prodding his ribs, “You should know by now I’m good at keeping secrets, Hon.”

“I do, so I saved the topper and ordered a red velvet cake.”

Rubbing her hands together like a little girl on Hanukkah, his wife licks her lips, “My favorite.”

They hold the knife together and cut a huge slice from the single tier. Oliver stays mum on the fact that the joint red velvet cake cutting was Felicity’s idea. They pay the bill, hop on the Ducati, and zip on over to Starling National Park just outside Aparo. They stroll along street lamps arm in arm, wedding bands catching the light. Felicity’s head nestles on his shoulder. His hand settles around her waist.

“So apart from the little scare, did you have a good evening?”

“It was almost perfect.”

“Almost?” His eyebrow quirks.

His wife smirks deviously, “Trust me, you are not the only one with surprises up your sleeve, Queen.”

They stop at a newly installed gazebo, which is illuminated by fairy lights. Felicity sets her phone down on a bench, turning the sound up and clicking her music app.

She leads him over to the center.

“Just this once.”

Felicity tosses her head back in disbelief, “Yeah, right. You danced with me at our reception and Positano.”

“Well, you are the one I want to share all my dances with. Plus in Positano, we were drunk after the winery, and you fell into a rose bush. You had these petals all throughout your hair, and I thought it was impossible for you to get more beautiful until I saw you at the reception.”

“Smooth, love. Not getting you out of this one.”

“Hey!” He promises, “I would never try to get out of it.”

She challenges, “Uh-huh, sure.”

They hold hands and sway to _At Last_. They song stops, and Felicity smells his cologne. He massages her back, remembering something in his front pocket.

“Felicity.”

His wife teases, “Is that your portable bow, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Before I forget, we should exchange gifts.”

“Okay.” She opens hers first, “The extension for a holographic projection screen. It’s just what I wanted. Take that Skye. I love it.”

“I thought you would.”

Subtlety is never his wife’s strong points. She ripped pages of M.I.T. Technology Review, circled the extension, and placed the clippings near her husband’s precious slow cooker. Oliver opens his present next, and forehead wrinkles.

“A coupon book. Well, I love my bargains.”

“Not those kind of coupons, Honey. Flip through.”

“Huh?” Oliver’s positively perplexed.

She guides, pointing out the stick figure with glasses, “That’s me.”

“I gotcha there, but um… what exactly are we doing?”

Felicity whispers something dirty in his ear. The moment of realization on Oliver’s face is hilarious. What does one get for the man who has everything, yet wants nothing? So Felicity though something sexy, and homemade from the heart works best.

“Tonight though. You are going to have to do all the work. My feet are killing me.”

“New boots?” Her husband figures.

Felicity responds with a grimace, “Unfortunately. Before we go, one more thing. Come here.”

They make a beeline under a sturdy tree, and make out like two teenagers behind the bleachers. His hands cushion her back from the wood, splinters be damned. She grabs his ass. It’s all tongue, teeth, and passion. However, it’s so goddamn cold they can see their breathes. He carries his wife over to the bike, and they make a speedy return to their apartment. How Felicity shoves her key in the door is an early Christmanukkah miracle. They tumble onto the couch, although Felicity’s really got to take off these boots.

“Here, let me just…”

He removes her shoes, neatly placing by the front door.

Desires are momentarily quelled in favor of hot cocoa, and a foot. The soles of her feet are pink, though her husband’s hands are magic. She moans in contentment, eyes slipping shut.

“Little lower, right at the heel. Ooh, yeah.”

“Honey, I know you’re hurting right now, but is it bad that I’m a little turned on?”

“Really? Just like that. There is such a thing as foreplay. Give me a little something something, and I am all yours, mister.”

He huffs out a laugh, “Okay, okay.”

His callused fingertips graze a ticklish patch of skin from a large hole in her jeans. He draws a heart on her knee, smooching her cheeking. A feather light touch along her hip and a nibble on her earlobe follow swiftly. She strokes his cheek before their lips connect again for the umpteeth time that night.

She breaks the kiss, “Bedroom now.”

Oliver hoists his wife up, throwing her over his shoulder. He gently pats her behind.

“Finally.”

“Heard that, Honey. Ow, ow! Easy!” Laughter bubbles up out of her.

“I’d believe you more if you weren’t so giggly.”

The hot chocolate is left on the coffee table. Thankfully, Oliver has one hand free to open their bedroom door. He seats Felicity at the edge of their bed. Lust and love mingle in their heated gazes as Oliver approaches his wife. She raises her arms, similar to their first night together in Nanda Parbat, letting him do all the work. They lock eyes, slowing down the frenzy because it’s as if they have all the time into the world.

Oliver is shirtless after one short breath. Felicity enjoys the play of his muscles — a body forged in scars and torment, but with her, it’s a bond beyond desire or sex. She’s far too distracted to notice when he steps behind her, knees dipping into the mattress. That is until Felicity feels her husband tucking some loose frazzled waves away from her face.”

“Ugh, Honey, not that tonight. I’m tired.”

“I know. Just relax.”

He inches one strap of her tank top lower, kissing the scar on her shoulder. She shudders. His hands knead into knotted muscles. Stubble rasps along the column of spine as he takes his time, kissing each and every one her old wounds from bullets or numerous surgeries.

Her voice laces heavily with need, “Oliver.”

Within a second, the warmth of his hands and mouth disappear only to be replaced with him urging her back to the center of their bed. Beard burn litters her delicate skin, but she doesn’t mind in the slightest. Their clothes come off piece by piece discarded in a heaping messy pile on the file. Laughter rouses her as Oliver has some difficulty pulling off his wife’s skinny jeans, although he manages to do so with a grit of his teeth of three strong tugs. Felicity spreads her legs, gripping his broad shoulders. His fingers massage her clitoris, leaving his wife a trembling mess as a string of expletives fill the room. His eyes clamp shut — lost in pleasure. It’s hard, fast, and unrelenting.

He whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Their mouths meld together as Oliver’s hips emptily thrust against hers. They can take their time, but to be honest after a long day and only four hours of sleep each night, the pull of slumber may become too great. Oliver grips his cock before he eases deep inside her. The moans she makes are enticing, but nothing compares to the feeling of those two being so purely connected in more ways than one. He groans at the sweltering heat, and how her body trembles beneath him. Her hair fans over the pillows. Felicity’s foot settles in the crook of his good knee while the other latches beside his hip. The mattress springs creak under their ministrations. Moans and groans fill the chilly air, but it’s not enough for her, not yet.

“Felicity.” Oliver grunts, sweat sheathing his face when he focuses on her. “I can’t.”

She whimpers, “I-It’s okay.”

But it’s not. Oliver wants her to come with him. He angles his hips differently, so his pelvis brushes against her clitoris. Another shudder wracks her body.

“Oh, God, Baby.”

Felicity gasps, pleading as she clings to him tighter, “Fuck! There, there, there. Don’t stop.”

Oliver pins her left hand over the pillows before he spills into her in long hot spurts. Felicity follows not a second later, walls pulsing around his dick. Their bodies stick together with sweat. After a long beat, Oliver pulls out of her, making them both groan lowly. He wraps up her in his arms. She rests on his torso. The couple absentmindedly plays with one another’s fingers and rings atop his chest.

“You were amazing.”

“Mm, I should have you take the lead more often, but I do like being the boss.”

“You can do whatever you want to me.”

Felicity slaps his chest playfully. “Shut up.”

“Ow!” He laughs, “Why do you keep hitting me?”

“I’d believe you more if you didn’t chuckle.”

“Before you go to sleep on me, highlight of our anniversary.”

She mumbles, “Marrying you.”

“Good because you’re stuck with me.”

“Hm, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They have just enough energy to clean up before they fall asleep wrapped up in nothing, but each other and the comforter.


	7. Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night and family time make for the perfect evenings.

( _Originally via 610 "Divided"_ )

McGuire’s Bar is dimly lit. A patron shoots pool away from the hustle and bustle of dining customers. Oliver and Felicity have finally found time to have a moment alone together on a rare date night. Giggles rouse against his torso.

“Come on. Come on.” Felicity insists, grabbing his hand, “Show me what was your go-to move when you went out with your girl of the night.”

Oliver casts her a sidelong glance as his cheeks flush red with embarrassment. He holds his wife snugly, pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. His platinum band gleams under the unflattering glow of flickering fluorescent lights. They move together as one — a duo ready to hit that bullseye with ease. In a classic movie, which is seen in every teenage romantic comedy to date. Oliver guides Felicity’s hand’s

Her husband instructs, “Deep breath.”

She does so, chest expanding against his calloused palm.

“Good.” His voice purposefully husky, whispering in her ear as if this is a private joke just for them. “It’s in the wrist.”

Her lips quirk in a soft smile. The dart cuts through the night air, hitting the target with such precision.

“Huh, seems pretty easy, Mr. Queen.”

“Oh, you think so? Maybe you should ask Cisco to work those nimble fingers of his.”

She snorts, nearly spitting her beer. “Hm, I’m not the only one who makes innuendos.”

“I heard it.” He snipes, correcting himself, “You know what I meant, Honey.”

Felicity chuckles, jabbing his arm, “Yeah.”

“Ow!”

She teases playfully with a pout, “Big baby. Want me to kiss it better?”

Her husband nods with an exaggerated lip quiver akin to a puppy. Her deep red lipstick marks his black suede cargo jacket. His fingertips graze the hem of her skirt while he delicately guides her chin. There’s a glare on her glasses, but all Oliver sees is his beautiful wife with joyous blue eyes he could stare into all night long. Unfortunately, a waitress interrupts their smooch with food.

“Here’s your order, Mr. Mayor — venison slider and Mrs. Queen spicy chicken tenders with a side of curly fries to share.”

Oliver clears his throat, attempting to hide his annoyance, “Thank you.”

“No prob. Can I get you anything else?”

“Nope.” Felicity cuts in quickly, “Just make sure Dani knows we need to head out the back alleyway.”

“Of course. Paparazzi can be assholes.”

“Nice hair,” The blonde hacker comments awkward as she spots streaks of purple in the server’s brunette waves,

Her man repeats, “Nice hair.”

“Shut up.” His wife warns, fixing the lapel of his jacket.

They manage to steal one quick kiss before diving into their meal. Surprisingly, Oliver and Felicity have only managed to check in on Raisa and William four times in the past hour and a half. Date night is a work free zone, which includes their day and night jobs. They discuss memories of their world travels and what they want to do next week before the bill arrives at their table.

The alleyway is dark, and reeks of pungent greasy garbage. Heel clacks blend with the subtle squeak of a work boot. Despite that, Felicity feels safe. She rests her head in the crook of Oliver’s neck, keeping warm in his suede jacket with his fingers splayed out against the small of her back. They talk about nothing and everything. But that’s what makes this Friday night perfect. Their conversation soon turns to a couple of their favorite childhood movies.

Oliver gasps, “You can’t tell me  _Bill Durham_ is better than _Field of Dreams._ ”   
  
“I just did. What are you going to do about it, mister?”   
  
Her husband smirks, “Oh, I’ll show you.”

The couple goes on to discuss how Kevin Costner gives a better performance in their movie of choice. Felicity runs to the Ducati. Oliver catches her from behind, picking up his wife, so she straddles the bike.

Puffs of air graze one another’s nose. Felicity hasn’t let go of her husband’s arms. She nuzzles his nose with hers. He leans in, and they share soft pecks. For quite the small motorcycle, Felicity surprises her own self when she discovers she can get somewhat horizontal on the seat. She claws at his back, feeling rough mangled skin even under the confines of his navy t-shirt. His fingers tangle in her messy blonde locks. The Ducati seat digs into Felicity’s back as teeth graze her neck.

“N-not here.” Felicity pants, pushing her husband off, much to his dismay.

He has what his would call instant frowny face. She flicks the back of his head, noting the security cameras and very public parking. Felicity knows they should have taken the Chysler with the very spacious back row, but the Ducati has its own appeals. Cliche, but there’s just something so freeing about wind whipping  through her hair and holding her husband close.

Oliver suggests, “Home.”

“Now.” Felicity nods.

He tosses her a helmet, and they zip off when the engine rumbles. Regardless of everything this city has faced, it’s flourishing once again. Crime is down. Businesses are booming, and it may seem rough around the angles. But Star City is beautiful. Felicity’s gazes flickers over to the bridge all lit up. Oliver recalls last weekend when he, Felicity, and William skipped rocks into Starling Bay and enjoyed a bonfire complete with s’mores. Lights become tiny dots in the distance as they arrive home.

The duo barely gets out of the elevator fast enough before they decided to jump each other’s bones come Hell, high water, or in this case cold weather.

“Damn it.” Her husband groans lowly, “You’ve got the keys.”

She gropes inside her purse for that adorable nerd emoticon keychain.

“Found ‘em.” His wife says with a bit too much chutzpah.

They’re careful not to wake William. The door creaks shut, and clothes come off faster than their super friends Barry and Kara could ever change. A thunderstorm rolls in, lightning strikes startle Oliver as he flashes back to that wretch island. Although, Felicity pulls him out of his own mind quickly.

“I’m right here.” Felicity whispers tenderly, crooking a finger at him “It’s just you and me.”

Her hair fans out over the pillows, lips littered with beard burn. Her eyes shine with a cocktail of lust and love. She’s stunning and positively bare beneath him. Felicity cradles his hips between her legs. There’s no time for slow. They build each other up at just the right pace, whimpers and moans muffled into the comfort of their bed. Oliver cups her face as he pushes in slowly. Oliver and Felicity gaze at each other like they hung the moon in the night sky. She exhales when he’s deep seated inside her.

“I love you.” becomes a manta on her husband’s lips. It echoes his wife’s babble a string of curse words threaded through heartfelt sentiments.

It’s not long before they develop an all too familiar rhythm. Bed springs creak under their ministrations. The storm outside rages, yet all they can focus on is each other. Nails rake over his scalp. His calloused hands cushion her scarred back, bringing his wife as close as they can possibly get. And he didn’t think that is possible. His body blankets hers. And Felicity’s heels press into his butt cheeks ever so slightly urging him on. Oliver feels the moment she breaks. Her pulse thrums against his lips. Felicity clings to him with all her might. Her walls flutter around his cock.

Felicity whimpers, biting into his broad shoulder, “ _Fu_ -.”

He kisses her deeply, swallowing her moans as wetness floods his sense.s His wife is absolutely spent. Her nails dig deliciously into his back as Oliver chases his own pleasure. Skin slaps against skin. His brow furrows, sweat coating every inch of their skin.

“ _Oh_.”

Oliver spills into her with long, hot spurts. It’s awhile before they move. She snuggles against him, legs cradling his calf despite the twinge of soreness from overused muscles. He grins out of pure bliss, cutely kissing her nose as he fiddles with her wedding band.

Felicity worries, snatching her hand back, “You didn’t think William heard anything, did you?”

“Really? Now.”

She slaps his chest, “Yes!”

“Felicity, Honey, the walls aren’t thin.”

“Oh, God, what about Raisa?”

 _“Felicity_.”

“Well, you never know.”

“We’re fine.”

Her lips purse in disbelief.

Oliver assures, draping the sheet over her backside, “We are.”

Her fingers tap over his abs before he falls asleep, “We owe Raisa like quintuple overtime and a Helluva holiday bonus.”

“Yeah, it’s okay. William loves her, and so do I in a maternal kind of way.”

“I know, but…”

Felicity zips her lips because now’s not the right time

“But what?” Oliver prompts.

She reminds, “The city needs you as mayor and the Green Arrow. I worry about you. I’m just better at hiding it than William. Remember that he needs you as you the dorky dad — not a superhero.”

“Box seats at the Comets gama?”

“He doesn’t need anything fancy.” Felicity thinks, “Just you. Try throwing the ball around, and we should take him to school more.”

Oliver sighs, “You’re right.”

“Hm, normally I’d love to hear that, but you look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

After a long beat, her husband confesses, “He opens up to you more than me.”

“Because I get to be the cool step-mom, but it’s a two way street. We need to spend more time together as a family. Didn’t you notice how happy he was at the Bay last weekend?”

“Yes.” He exhales, lifting her with him, “He was.”

It may have been the worst timing ever for a parenting discussion, but their date night ends in each other’s arms. That’s more than Oliver and Felicity can ask for, and while their schedules are hectic, the couples makes good on their promise. By Saturday, the Queen family settles into the living, watching a movie marathon of _Bill Durham_ , _Field of Dreams_ , and _Incredibles II_. Felicity sinks into the couch with her bare feet resting atop Oliver’s lap. She nurses a sip of red wine before a nosh of licorice. Oliver takes a swig of his beer with a handful of popcorn. William sits on the floor with a root better and a Three Musketeers bar.

His step-mom inquires, “So? What do you think?”

“Yeah, Buddy, what’s your favorite?”

William answers smartly, “ _Incredibles II_.”

The family engages in a pillow fight, which leaves the floor a sticky mess. Raisa pulls on her coat with a knowing smile and not a peep because they’ll be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, if this seems a little lackluster. My family and I have been under some stress with my grandpa's heart attack this past week. Thankfully. he's on the mend and finally awake and out of ICU. But we've still got a ways to go. Also, I felt a little meh and uninspired by the mid-season premiere. Regardless of those issues, I wanted to write something, so I do hope you all enjoy it.


	8. No Matter What

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day starts out as relatively normal until Oliver gets surprising news from a duo in William's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chopstick scene is canon. A part of it is in _Arrow: Fatal Legacies_ written by Marc for Arrow Season 5.5 in the form of a novel out today, but I adapted it here to fit with the context and time of my story.

( _Originally via 611 "We Fall_ ")

“ _Oh, Oli- Damn!_ ”

Felicity’s hand clamped over muffled her moans. Her hips crested with the rising sun, thighs quivering between her husband’s head.

“Shh.” Oliver hushed amidst a laugh as he emerged from their stifling sheets. “Will’s not awake yet.”

She had half a mind to slap her man on his stupid muscular chest. However, considering his wake up call and the way he wiped remnants of her pleasure from his chin, Felicity’s annoyance simmers. Love and tenderness flooded their veins. Oliver ducked down for a kiss — one which grew more passionate when morning was quickly encroaching on their time alone. He nibbled on her lower lip. Her fingers threaded through his spiky blonde locks, ring pressed flush against his scalp. His hardness grazed her wet, aching center — just waiting to filled. He thrust against her.

God, she more than wanted to, but there was simply no time today. They had to make sure William was ready for his field trip. The couple shared gentle pecks, Felicity pulled away, much to Oliver’s discontent.

“Honey, we can’t.” Felicity reminded, pointing toward the radio clock on her nightstand.

“But-”

Oliver pouted, resembling a little boy who was told not to open his presents until Christmas Eve. He knew their agreement by the way, but that certainly didn’t stop Oliver from trying.

* * *

Last night, he wired another ten million dollars to Cayden James, and he couldn’t get that failure out of his head. Oliver tried a Chinese herbal tea Maseo had once concocted for him during his stay in Hong Kong. Then there was the push-ups driving up and down, which his wife watched with one eye open. Though she pretended to be asleep for his sake, and finally a cold shower did nothing. After a towel dry, Oliver climbed into bed, pulling his wife against him. He counted ripples in the ceiling before, he heard a sharp breath.

His wife murmured groggily, “Can’t sleep?”

He shook his head.

They had a short discussion, but the tension was still weighing heavily on his mind. Suddenly, Felicity’s palm skimmed over his abs. Oliver gasped when her fingertips sneaked into his worn gray boxers.

Oliver moaned, “Baby, what you are you doing?”

She squeezed his cock at the perfect pressure, pumping him slowly.

“What does it look like?” Felicity quipped playfully, turning towards him.

His hand joined hers, and they’d taken care of him together until he had just enough energy to kick off of his soiled undergarments. They cleaned up with baby wipes and did so much as stick a fresh face towel under that ample wet spot. Sex didn’t have to be so life-affirming with declarations of undying love. Granted, that emotion was always ever present, but this was purely much needed stress relief.

He yawned, vestiges of sleep fulling pulling at his bones, “You’re amazing, Felicity.”

“Yeah, yeah.” His wife waved off, pulling the duvet over her. “You owe me one in the A.M, mister.”

* * *

So now, here they were. In the heat of the moment, Oliver had even skipped his usual short morning jog. If a short run counts as six miles. Then sure, but it was generally his routine. Today, though, the off-duty hero had far more important matters to finish. A rapping at their bedroom caused the couple to disentangle themselves from one another.

“Dad?”

His father panted, “Yeah, Buddy?”

“You want me to get Felicity’s coffee started?”

“Aw!” His step-mom chimed, catching her breath. “He’s so sweet.”

“No, William. It’s okay. I got it. What in the mood for pancakes, eggs, or waffles?”

He thought. “Pancakes please.”

“You got it, little man.”

“Oh.” The preteen wondered, “Is everything okay in there? I thought I heard Felicity make a noise. I can’t really describe it.”

“Yep. Yep.” Felicity fibbed, cheeks reddening with heat, “Um, I just tripped over the blanket getting out of bed.”

“Oh okay.”

They waited until William’s footsteps receded from the door. The duo scrambled to find their work clothes and dressed quicker than anyone could ask, “Who’s the fastest man alive now?”

Oliver whipped a short stack of apple cinnamon pancakes while Felicity brewed some java. Her husband preferred a boring black coffee while she enjoyed a splash of non-fat milk with two shots of coconut creamer. Meals without work from their day or night jobs were a rarity, but they promised to keep a sense of normalcy for William’s sake. After they ate at the kitchen island, Felicity perused his math homework, and it was perfect per usual. Oliver scoured over his essay on another William, Shakespeare. While her husband insists his best subject in school was charm, he was sort of a literary nerd, and it was both hilarious and sexy as Hell.Her red lips ticked up in a smile as she watched her favorite boys practice with Nerf Arrows. The last empty soda can clinked against the coffee table, and William cheered with a fist pump.

“William, do you have everything for your field trip?”

“Yeah, I think so.” But he searched the living room for his backpack. Sometimes that boy could lose his head if it wasn’t attached.

Felicity set down her empty travel mug down, finding his backpack right where he left it in the corner of his room.

“Here you go.”

Her stepson said, foot brushing against his ankle, “Sorry, thank you.”

“The Cultural Biology Center re-do, right?” Oliver checked, tossing William his green hoodie.

“Uh-huh.” William nodded, slinging his backpack over one arm, “Tidepools, coral, otters, all that fun stuff.”

“Very cool.” Felicity mentioned, “If you get to take a picture with the otters, text me. I love those little ones almost as much as pandas.”

He obliged, “I’ll do my best.”

“Ah, ah,” Oliver cut in, “You’re not supposed to text during class.”

Felicity slapped her forehead, “Right, right.”

When Oliver tucked away his son’s essay, Felicity mouthed, “Remember, otters, text me.” with emphatic typing gestures.

“Heard that, Honey.” Her husband informed with a slightly perturbed look in his eyes.

She shrugged, “Well, if anything goes wrong — not that it will — call me or your dad to come pick you up. Not Uncle Hal, alright?”

His eyebrow quirked, “Why would I call Uncle Hal?”

“Uncle Hal’s the—”

“Felicity, Honey, secret identity.”

Though she finished her sentence before Oliver interrupted, “Uncle Hal’s the Green Lantern. He has flight practice over a field near the Cultural Biology Center.”

“Really?” He grinned, “That’s so awesome.”

“Yes it is. Listen to your teacher. Don’t feed the otters, and when you get home, I want you to do some more research for that Shakespeare essay, young man. Now take your Green Arrow backpack and go learn something.”

“Okay, and I know, don’t miss my bus.”

William closed the door behind him.

Felicity teased, “Secret identity, yeah right.”

“Hm, I’m going to have ask Carol for a Green Lantern backpack for Will, now aren’t I?”

“Oh, definitely.”

Their pelvises hit flush against one another before their lips ever did.

Oliver smiled into the kiss, “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Felicity giggled mid-smooch.

Her hand wrapped around his shirt collar while her nails lightly scratched exposed skin of his forearm from those rolled up sleeves. His arms wrapped low on her waist, fingertips itching to open that zipper, which just so happen to run all the way down her pink and purple frock. They swayed together before Felicity nuzzled his nose with hers.

“Nice breath,” Oliver commented, lips falling into a grimace.

“Please.” Felicity countered, purposefully breathing on him, “You love my coffee breath.”

Well, she’s not wrong.

She fanned her nose, “Besides yours is worse.”

After gathering their things, Oliver and Felicity were ready to start the day. A meeting with the city treasurer was akin to sending an antelope in a lion’s den, but it had to be done. Felicity, on the hand, had a meeting with Gotham’s most elusive billionaire, Bruce Wayne, they had a video chat to discuss the location of the Queen Bio-Med/Wayne Tech medical merger at Derden Tower. As intimidating as Bruce could, he had a problem saying no a powerful woman, especially one who could leak all his embarrassing secrets, such as when Bruce was in an acapella group at NYU, yet he had a surprisingly excellent voice, which could bring tears to people’s eyes.

Across town at City Hall, Oliver’s face was buried in his hands. He twisted his wedding band relentlessly until a call from his desk phone disrupted his brooding.

“Hello. Mayor Queen, speaking.” His voice softened when he heard a familiar voice. “Hi. Yes, of course I can meet with you two. Let me just tell my assistant. Okay. Bye.”

He pressed a button on the intercom.

“Becky, please clear my schedule.”

“But, sir, what about Councilwoman Ramos?”

“Friday.”

Meanwhile, Felicity sat at her desk, heels kicked off as she sat perched on her comfy leather chair. She perused her own design schematics for an adapted steering wheel, which would be helpful for disabled patrons.

Gerry’s voice crackled over the speak, “Mrs. Smoak-Queen, you have a personal call on line four from a Dr. Caitlin Snow.”

“Hey, Cait. What’s up, doc?” She laughed at her own joke.

Rubbing the back of her neck, she spoke, "Yeah, I guess you have heard that one a lot. Woah, woah, don’t have your evil alter ego sass me, we’re all friends here. How did? What the Hell? When did this become our normal lives? i’ll see if I can find it. I’m heading out now.”

Felicity’s fingers drummed against her EA’s desk, “Gerry, family emergency.”

“I hope everything’s okay, ma’am. I’ll call Raisa and tell her to pick up William.”

Felicity grabbed her trench coat, “borrowed” a piece of tech from Ray’s old ATOM suit, which was holed up at Palmer Tech, and boarded Star City’s Whisper Train to Central City. Oliver was close by, meeting an elderly couple at Smiley’s Diner.

Cisco, who was two inches tall, yelled, “Finally!”

“Hello to you too, dude.”

Ralph wolf-whistled. “Hey, pretty mama, you single?”

Felicity flashed her wedding ring.

“Do I have to turn him back to normal?”

Cait, Harry, and Iris took a long pause, looking the other way.

“You guys!” Their friend sniped.

The trio appeased in a mumble, “Okay, fine.”

Day dipped into night. Oliver and Felicity made their way back home, had a long and extensive discussion with William, who returned home with his Uncle Hal via green energy bubble after James’ cronies tried to flood his field trip. With a no video games for a week punishment (as if the quinoa Raisa fed him wasn’t enough) tthe parents watched through a crack in the doorway until William fell asleep safe and sound. The couple cuddled up on the couch in a comfortable silence.

Star City finally had a more than decent sushi place, Felicity snagged a container of California rolls from the fridge.

“What’s that your secret not-so-secret Oreo mint delivery from Postmates?” Oliver wondered.

“Ha ha!” His wife informed, “It’s from Shimizu’s. Seriously, that place is addicting.”

Her husband concurred, “It’s delicious.”

He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. She scoffed at how perfectly her husband could hold his chopsticks.

“Show-off,” scoffed the blonde hacker. She plucked a California roll with her fingertips, and plopped it in her mouth, “I prefer the old school method.”

He laugh, free hand skimming her bare leg, which was resting on his lap, “I see that.”

“Did you know that chopsticks are becoming inadequate, even in Japan? People are now starting to prefer forks and knives because they’re sturdier.”

“You don’t say?  I did know that.”

“Well, did you also know that people don’t use chopsticks to hurt their enemies?”

“Yes.” He chuckled, tracing a pattern on her calf, “But I didn’t hear any complaining when I taught you how to defend yourself with chopsticks when we went to Taiwan.”

Fair point, these two had so much history between them, and now they were happily married with a son.

“Why did Anatoly teach you how to off someone with chopsticks in Russia?”

Taking a swig of his vodka, her husband answered honestly, “In case I ever needed it.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah.” Oliver sighed heavily, hands leaving her legs like he’d been burned. “A long time ago in Hong Kong.”

After nursing her gin and 7UP, Felicity prompted, “Is that why you have sad face? I didn’t mean to bring any bad memories.”

He assured, “No, no, Honey. I want to share everything with you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She placed his hands back on her leg. His gaze was intense — a lightness filled his heart after the tough scrutiny he had been under throughout the day. She scrubbed off makeup and let her hair down after a quick wash. Felicity had these adorable freckles all over her face and these bouncy, frizzy natural curls with dark roots showing atop her head. Felicity was gorgeous — no matter what. But this, Felicity was his most favorite of all.

“You look beautiful,” He whispered, eyes gleaming as for some reason in this very moment, Oliver felt like the luckiest man alive.

Dimples prodded her cheeks, she said softly “Thank you.”

“I mean it. I’m not just trying to change the subject. You truly look beautiful — no matter what.”

“I do seem to remember you sending a text today about how this dress would look even better on the floor. Oliver, tell me what’s wrong?”

Oliver pulled Felicity into his lap, holding her closer than before, “Bill and Jennette called me this afternoon.”

“Samantha’s parents?”

Annoyance rising in his throat, her husband recapped, “They want full custody of William.”

“What?” Felicity gasped, anger inflating her chest, “Why? They can’t do that.”

“They think he’s not safe around me. It didn’t help that Hal and Will were on the news. They want to take me to court.”

Felicity said, already putting a plan into action, “We’re going to fight this. We need to see a mediator, and call Jean.”

“I already called her, and she recommended a colleague of hers, Jane Garcia in Family Law.”

“Good.” His wife promised, grabbing Oliver’s shoulders, “Because we are not going to lose him.”

“I know.”

He made a promise to the mother of his son. Thea was off God knows where with Roy. Granted, he and William had a rocky start. But with everything going with John and the team, here they were. He needed his family as much as they needed him. Felicity’s fingertips fiddled with the buttons on his wrinkled shirt. Her palm rested atop the scar where his Bratva tattoo once remained. He held his wife close, breathing in the scent of her cherry blossom shampoo. This was their home, and this is their family. He’d do whatever it takes to keep them all together — no matter what.


	9. Shattered

( _Originally via 612 "All for Nothing_ ")

A syrupy substance fills a syringe. John Diggle scratches his scraggly beard before he injects the steroids into his arm. His hand still trembles as does his heart. His living room is in disarray. blinds closed, hanging off the wall. John sighs, looking at a broken photo of Lyla, Sara, and J.J. in the park. They were happy then. Pushing that thought out of his mind, he chugs the remnants of a bottle of whiskey. The amber liquid burns his throat, but does nothing to ease his pain. He tosses the bottle aside, careful not to step on the broken glass as he walks to the sofa. His wall clock changes to 7AM.  
  
Light streams in from the high narrow window, landing on Felicity’s back. She buries her face in the pillows. Oliver springs to his feet after a quick round of push ups, sweat glistening on his torso, highlighting his abs and scars. Felicity doesn’t budge until he climbs atop his wife gently, pulling the duvet down as he presses soft kisses into her own mangled skin. His wedding band feels cold against her shoulder as he kneads over tight muscles.  
  
So much to do, but the sudden shrill ring of their alarm clock and telltale clink of Chocolatey Poofs summon the couple elsewhere.

They make a beeline for the kitchen to find William sitting at the island with a hearty bowl of cereal and recently combed hair, indicating he’s enjoyed a good night’s rest. Raisa’s lips lift in a knowing smile before she re-ties her fluffy pink robe and brews a fresh pot of coffee.

William offers, pouring his father a bowl, “Dad?”

“I love these,” Oliver says, ever since he was a little boy.

Felicity lovingly rolls her eyes because she never would have thought her health nut of a husband would enjoy a breakfast complete with tons of cocoa nibs and whole.

“Felicity?” Her step-son shakes the box with a mouthful.

“Hmm, no thanks, Buddy,” replies the blonde hacker, reaching for a different box, “I think I’m going to have some granola instead.”

Raisa declares, “See? She’s the smart one — a woman after my own heart.”

“Tell them something they don’t know Raisa,” proclaims the tech mogul.

They eat breakfast together as a family. Everything’s so light, happy, and perfect. It’s what Oliver has always wanted, and he’s certainly not going to let his son be taken away that easily.

Across town, John wallows in his stained sweats, staring a shattered photo of his family. Once things break, they can never be put back together quite the same way. But they doesn’t mean, they’re irreparable. Lyla’s given him so many chances to get clean, yet the drugs were keeping the ex-soldier mobile. At least that’s what he keeps to telling himself to absolve his stupidity. The Diggles aren’t divorced — not yet anyway. But her sweet Johnny, the mountain of a man, has to try. He has to fight the addiction, somehow, someway.

“Another hour,” John grumbles, gnawing on a piece of crappy canned bread.

His eyes fall shu. He recalls the sting on his cheek when his wife cracked one across his face — the heat of her palm over his cheek, anger seething in her wet blue eyes. All because last week, he tried to take Sara and J.J. from their nanny, Lindsay, while buzzed more than a bee colony.

After dropping off William to Starling Middle, Cayden James is no longer a threat. Now Star City’s biggest problems are the average run-of-the-miller gangs, drug dealers, and factions. Oliver and Felicity exchange a morning smooch before an notification on her tablet and a phone call from Quentin break them out of their routine.

Felicity frowns, “Oh, no.”

“The Bertenellis, again?”

“Mm-hm, say hi to your ex-girlfriend for me.” She quips, calling after him as he heads to their closet to don a suit with much more hunter green.

Her husband presses a harsh kiss to her lips, “Ha ha. Can you please grab your stuff and head down to the Bunker before work? Please and thank you.”

Felicity pulls on a white trench coat over her red dress, grabbing her tablet.

“Love you too.”

He adds, “You know I love you most, Honey.”

“Yeah, yeah.” His wife teases playfully, “A likely story.”

Helena Bertenelli escapes from Iron Heights, taking over her family legacies, which sits on piles of multi-colored pills, enough Coke to form a small snowy hill, and the weird psychedelic plants straight out of the ‘70s. But she isn’t working alone. She has an army of cousins, equipped with guns and a team of mercenaries by her side.

Overwatch questions, “Green Arrow, you copy?”

“Little… Busy… Right, now, H- Overwatch.”

Pressing the comms link in her ear, she acknowledges, “They’re just a few mobsters. You can take them.”

He grunts with a bone-crushing kick to a merc’s sternum. The large man rolls over like a dead dog.

“If you were out in the field with me this time,” He pants, corse-correcting himself, “Overwatch, you’d feel differently about some mobsters.”

“I figured.” His partner directs, “That’s why I called in some backup. Look behind you.”

Atop a boat, Ragman knocks a gunman out with a swift whip of his magic rags.

In his garbled whispers, Rory insists, “I’ll cover you. Go.”

Ragman uses his magic suit like a shield, catching and throwing the barrage of bullets that come their way. Green Arrow goes after Huntress. They engage in a battle arrow for arrow akin to a game of cat and mouse. Emerald and purple flecked arrows arce over the morning sky. The Huntress runs toward her prey with the speed of a marathon runner. Ragman trips her up, and Oliver finally has an opening. Her eyes clench shut, awaiting a deadly blow as soon as her bow clanks against the driftwood that comprises the pier. The arrow hits its intended target, trapping his adversary in a net.

“My my,” Helena eggs on. “You’ve gotten soft. I’ll be back.”

“Don’t they all say that?” Ragman raises an eyebrow.

Oliver concurs with a smirk, “Hm, it’s part of the grade school handbook of Villainy 101.”

“Did you just make a joke, Boss.” Rory feels his forehead, “I’d never thought I’d see the day.”

Oliver growls, gazing at his friend with fiery azure eyes, “Get your hand off me.”

Rory retracts his hand as if it’s been burned. His cheeks heat with a mixture of fear and embarrassment.  

“What? Only Felicity is allowed to touch?” Rory thinks, but he’s bright enough to keep that one to himself.

“I’m kidding.” Oliver extends his hand with a shit-eating grin, “Thanks for the help, man.”

בכל עת, אח” (“Anytime brother”)

Felicity translates loosely, “He was happy to help.”

As Rory travels via magic suit back to Jump City, Oliver sighs, smiling under his hood, “I know.”

The rest of the day carries on as relatively normal. It’s almost odd how mundane it can be. Felicity meets up with her two new business partners, Lily Stein and Zari Tomaz. With Curtis and Alena out for good, she wants to focus on a new branch for Smoak Tech, which will focus specifically on benefitting women of STEM.

Oliver, on the other hand, endures a mundane meeting with the local EPA advisor about toxicity levels in Starling Bay. Drugs, dead agents, and plain old pollution will do that. However, it’s the preliminary meeting with his lawyer, Jane Ramos, that has him in a mood.

After dinner with William and Raisa, Star City’s favorite power couple meets at what their son would refer to as their secret superhero hideout. Felicity doesn’t care how late it is. She needs this.

Sometimes the new bunker has its benefits, a Keurig. She brews a hot caramel latte. The caffeine blend warms her tummy.

“Hey.” Oliver announces with a clear of his throat.

“Oh!” Felicity exclaims, leopard print heels clacking as she walks alongside her man, “I love your face, but that is just not a good face.”

He sits atop the conference table as his wife stands between his legs. They lean into a tight embrace. Oliver strokes her back, ring shining brightly under florescent lights. His callused hands contrast the delicate lace of her Valentine red dress. Oliver melts in her tight embrace.

Her husband mumbles into her hair, “Today started out so well.”

“What’s up?” His wife wonders, pulling away slighly,

“My meeting with Jane didn’t go how I’d hoped. Bill and Jennette have a solid case against me, especially after last year’s indictment.”

“But? Please tell me there’s a but.”

“But since he’s been under our care for almost a year. We have no history of drug use, child abuse or neglect, and if we offer visitation rights to William’s grandparents, it’s cutting it dangerously close, we may be able to pull it out a win in mediation next week.”

Felicity sighs in relief, “Oh, thank God. You had me worried for a minute there.”

Lines marr his forehead, and Oliver wears a frown.

“You still have sad face. Come on, I know we both have a lot on our plates, but we can handle this.”

“It’s not the case.” Oliver pauses, fiddling with his ring, “I-I saw John outside the liquor store when I went to that mini-mart  to get those powdered donuts you love.”

He reveals a small package of fried doughy morsels of deliciousness.

“Yay!” She cheers, popping one into her mouth, “A-about the donuts. Not John. I mean, Is he? How is he?”

“John’s in really bad shape, and you know what happened when we had lunch with Lyla last week. When I tried to go over there, he threw a shoe at me.”

“A shoe, huh? I was expecting a beer bottle.”

Oliver relays, “He was too busy drinking it. He’s hurting, and I don’t know how to help me. I already took care of Dragon. I doubt know what else to do.”

“He’s never going to go for what I have planned.” Felicity mutters.

“What that?”

She leads him over to the area of their Bunker, where Oliver usually does target practice. Felicity, his brilliant partner in life and crime-fighting unsheathes a prosthetic arm. Although, this arm is no simple replacement. Felicity has been working weeks on a new teched out limb, made from kelicite — a strong nth metal, yet surprisingly lightweight. It could monitor John’s vitals, an attack mode, where John can shoot bullets or lasers. This device also came with a scanner and a smooth outer layer, which feels like smooth natural skin.

She bites her lip, “So what do you think?”

“I may want to chop off my hand just I could use it. Felicity, this is amazing. To get John to come around, well, it’s going to take some time.”

“And rehab.” She jabs his arm, “Don’t get any ideas about the whole amputation tidbit, mister. I love your hands.”

Her husband winks, “Trust me, I know.”

Butterflies swim up from the pool of coffee she drank as Felicity avoids her husband’s face. She glances down at toe cleavage and those pale pink nails she painted the night before. They can’t get John out of their heads. Oliver changes out of his mayor suit right in front of his wife into a pair of khakis and work boots.

“What are you doing?” Felicity cries out, sounding oddly scandalized as she shields her eyes.

He laughs, “Baby, come on. You’ve seen me in a lot less than this.”

“Obviously, but it’s distracting, and I need to work on this algorithm, so we can track the next illegal drug ship heading into Port.”

“And I need to blow off some steam, but I can’t do the salmon ladder in my business suit. So breathe and focus.”

She repeats what he said in an angry mutter under her breath. Felicity pumps up some jams. Rock ‘n’ roll with a sleazy guitar beat and minor chords drown out Oliver pounding on concrete with a heavy sledgehammer. His wife loves Nirvana, whereas he is more of a Blues man — Papa Legbone and of course B.B. King. Oliver mouths something inaudible.

Felicity fingertips falter as she lowers the volume, “What was that?!”

“Nothing.”

She exhales, fighting the urge to look at those amazing abs, “Okay.”

He chuckles when he strides over to the salmon, sweaty and wet like something straight out of _Baywatch_ without the slow-motion run. She resumes typing, yet pauses again. This algorithm will take at least another twenty minutes. Oliver thinks one of the sexiest things about his wife is watching her think out loud, but sometimes it’s what she doesn’t say that make him as bashful as a school boy in the midst of his very first crush.

“You alright?”

“Uh-huh.” His wife waves off, traipsing over to the Keurig, “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

She brews another latte.

Oliver points out, hopping up to the bar, “Anymore coffee and you won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“Don’t judge me.”

Felicity takes a long sip as she observes those taunt muscles on full display. His khakis are slung low, extenuating his hips. He does a full press. Then a jump up to the next bar, and a few chin-ups before he goes even higher. Oliver damn lifts himself over the bar before he finally notices his wife staring.

“Felicity, my eyes are up here.”

“Oh, I’m aware. Just let me have this.”

“You have.” He grunts, making his way back down, “all of me.”

She stirs the caramel into her coffee. His shoes hit the ground with ease. Oliver approaches her with the grace of a jungle cat, yet the grin he’s sporting is all Cheshire cat. He grabs a towel so close, she can feel the heat and sweat radiating off his body. Her heel hits the floor with a soft clack as her toes brush against her bare leg. Two can play at this game.

Wrapping a towel around his neck, her fingertips caress his scar, “Still annoyed about the coffee?”

“Huh? Maybe I just have to do something to tire you.”

For someone who received a C+ in gym, Felicity climbs on her husband like he’s tree. They adjourn to the showers. Moans and groans echo off the locker room walls. The couple ends up, cuddling naked tangled up in spare blankets and each other.

“Wow.” Felicity whistles, skin flush with her recent arousal, “I’m surprised we haven’t broken this cot yet.”

“It’s pretty sturdy.”

Oliver holds her close. Felicity’s chin rests on his chest, gazing at the stack of old tech magazines, fern, and single red pen in their makeshift break room with those long nights. Her husband focuses on John’s empty locker with a Spartan tag over it.

She scratches his stubble playfully, “We’ll get him back, Honey.”

“I hope so.” Oliver exhales, lifting her with him.

For all their sakes, because something bigger than Cayden James and the Cabal is in store for a fractured Original Team Arrow.


	10. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/post/170952469036/are-you-writing-an-olicity-fic-for-6x13), but I added more. A war is brewing.

Curtis Holt shyly steps into the mayor’s office at City Hall. He hopes to make amends with the Queens, or at the very least re-calibrate Felicity and John’s biostimulant chips. He places the two pieces of tech, slightly smaller than a thumb drive on Oliver’s desk next to an ornate letter opener from Anatoly. He doesn’t say a world, though regret weighs heavily on his shoulders.

“You broke her spirit.” Oliver growls, body tensing with every word. Rage consumes his intense gaze. “You caused her pain.”  
  
Curtis quips, “There’s always a clear chain of command.”  
  
The off-duty archer does everything not to slap his former ally upside the head.  
  
“We can get through her paralysis. We’ve done that before, and I know she improve the tech you made, which is supposed to help people – not hurt them. But Felicity should never forgive you for what you did.”  
  
“Man, I didn’t mean for it to go down like this.”  
  
Oliver cuts in, voice choked with emotion. “But it has.”  
  
“I’m so…”  
  
“Stop. You have no idea what you really did to her because you’re not there when she pushes herself to brink just to get stronger again. You’re not there to hear her screaming in pain when she wakes up from a nightmare, and you’re not there to find her crying in the closet when she looks at the catheter she has to wear. You’re not there.  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
For once, Curtis is speechless.  
  
“Get out!” He yells, voice rough and commanding.  
  
“Just like that?”  
  
“Get. Out.”  
  
Curtis exits the room, and Oliver finds his wife sitting in the doorway.  
  
Felicity wonders in disbelief, “You think I’m broken?”  
  
She rolls away, eyes wet with unshed tears.  
  
“Felicity, honey. No, wait!”  
  
He blocks the door. She shoves him against the doorjamb.  
  
“No, no.” She cries, “You look at me like I’m broken, damaged goods.”  
  
“Hey, hey.” Oliver kneels down to her level, “No, I don’t. You’re stronger than anyone I know. I just hate seeing you in pain.”  
  
“I’m trying, okay? I know we’ve been through this before, but I-I…”  
  
“Felicity.” He sighs her like a prayer. “You told me once you wanted to walk down the aisle on our wedding day.”  
  
His wife responds with a watery, “Yeah?”  
  
“I never got to tell you. It never matters to me whether you’re in the chair or not. As long as I got to marry you. Because I love you, Honey so much.”  
  
“There’s just so much to figure out now, especially with William.”  
  
“I understand, but we’ll do it together. Alright?”  
  
Felicity nods in his hands. Their foreheads touch as she catches her breath.

“I-I don’t want to use Curtis’ tech. Do you understand?”

He does. Who knows what kind of codes the former Olympian used to mess with the chips? Oliver will never forget the look on his wife and brother’s faces. And the excruciating pain all over their bodies — the searing burn followed by tingling, muscle spasms until their limbs went completely numb.

Oliver couldn’t do anything to help his team other than defend his injured family members from Dinah’s Canary Cry and the onslaught of bullets from Rene. He takes the tech out of the small leather boxes and stomps on them. Felicity wipes her eyes. Disability is never easy. William blames Oliver for Felicity’s current situation. When he saw her own scars on warm Spring morning.

“You have bullet wounds too? I thought you don’t go out into the field much,” questions her step-son.

“She doesn’t, Buddy. It’s.. It’s just from that awful man.”

His son fills in, “Damien Darhk — the guy who kidnapped me before Chase.”

“Mm-hm.” Felicity confirms, speaking delicately. “We can’t promise nothing will ever happen to you, given the lives we lead. But we’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

William doesn’t care about that right now. Anger burns through him.

“Where were you when Darhk kidnapped me and shot Felicity?”

Memories flashed in his mind.

“I was trying to get us away from Darhk, and I was trying to find you.”

Not a good enough answer for William as he trudges off to his room. Oliver wants to follow, but his wife’s hand snatches his wrist.

“Let him go. We’ll discuss more about this tonight.”

Felicity starts a round of physical therapy with Curtis’ ex-husband, Paul — a sight that cuts like a knife. But Oliver and Felicity don’t give a rat’s ass. They ignore him as they stroll down the Promenade in Aparo Square. Felicity tells a hilarious joke Lily Stein shared during the Smoak Enterprises meeting, which garners her husband’s rapt attention. She has an iced latte in one hand while Oliver pushes the other side of her chair with his boring black coffee in his free hand

“I have no idea what you just said, but it is good to see you smile again.”

“Mm.” She sighs, neck craning for a kiss. “It feels good to laugh again.”

Friendships come and go. Oliver and Felicity’s love is unbreakable. Felicity Smoak-Queen has good days and bad. These past few months have been the definition of bittersweet. Rough callused fingertips damn near match Felicity’s mangled skin as he traces her scars. He smooches what he can’t reach.

Oliver vows in a whisper, full of conviction, “I am never going to let anyone hurt you or William again.”

“The silver lining is” Felicity mumbles groggily, “we know who to trust.”

Rene loads a magazine into his automatic weapon.

“They want a war,” starts Rene.

T-Spheres float in the air with a subtle hum.

Curtis agrees, “Let’s give ‘em one.”

“Move out!” Dinah orders.

The Diggles and Queens are safe in their beds. A glow from her Tablet stirs Felicity out of slumber.

“Oliver.” His wife alerts in Overwatch mode, shaking him awake. “We have to go. We have to go.”

The two seperate teams roll out to Starling Bay near the docks. Oliver, dressed as the Emerald Archer knocks his arrow. Dig fires his gun thanks to his new Smoak Enterprises prosthetic. The recruits stand there with their mouths left agape. A man rises from the watery depths. Strangely, he resembles a new friend of Original Team Arrow’s, Arthur Curry, also known as Aquaman.

Green Arrow growls, using his voice modulator. "Wbo are you?"

The man reveals, a water sphere swirling in his palm, “I am Thanatos, sea god of death.”


	11. Say Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 614 aftermath with some changes to fit with my fic canon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter actually turned out much shorter than I expected, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless.

( _Originally via 614 "Collision Course"_ )

Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak-Queen entered their makeshift bunker in complete silence. They’d trudged up the stairs to their attic, so he could patch up that bullet graze. The drive home was too quiet. They were all out of words until Felicity couldn’t take it anymore.

“Screw you!” Felicity roared, turning back to her husband. He stared at her with his mouth left slightly, “That’s how you react to me telling you I was shot.”

He growled, “It’s exactly why I don’t want you out in the field, Felicity. Look at what happened tonight.”

Applying pressure to her forearm, she marched towards her stubborn partner in a rage, “I’m your wife, idiot and your partner, so start treating me like it. With the team gone, you don’t get to be out there by yourself, that’s not how this works. This isn’t what we agreed to.”

“I know, but as your husband, it’s my job to keep you safe — no matter what.”

She growled, “I decide whether I need your protection or not. Remember? Quentin needed backup.”

“Pause,” he insisted. “Pause the argument, so I can patch you. You’re bleeding.”

“Fine,” grumbled the blonde hacker.

He picked her up, and sat his wife on the medbay table. Felicity’s neck and collarbone flushed, despite her anger. Oliver muttered a string of curse words as they were out of oxycodone, morphine, and even the regular OTC pain meds. As their secondary bunker, they really needed to restock the medicine cabinet. Thanks to a phone, Felicity invented as a Smoak Enterprise propriety, they discovered the bullet wasn’t lodged too deep in her arm. It didn’t hit any important joints or blood vessels.

Oliver made a beeline for their bedroom, and returned with William’s Starling Rockets teddy bear, Stanley and one of his pink polka dot ties. Her eyes widened at the sight, knowing what was about to happen.

“We can’t leave the bullet in your arm, and we have no pain meds.” Oliver warned. Felicity gulped, nodding.” His fiery eyes simmered,  Oliver’s annoyance replaced with warmth and kindness, “This is going to hurt.”

Felicity scoffed, attempting to ease that tremor in her voice. “Please, this coming from the man who used to stitch up his own wounds.”

“Look, Honey. I would never do anything to cause you pain, but this is going to hurt like Hell. So please, just let me help.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

They carefully took her gray trench coat and red sweater. Felicity winced as her man applied some rubbing alcohol. She gasped at the sudden burning sensation. Though it was nothing compared to the bullet pierced her flesh. It was incredible how such a little piece of metal could easily do so much damage. Deep breaths. His fingers pressed gently against the red wound, both sandy and wet with fresh and dry blood.

“Sorry.” He pressed a kiss atop her head.

She exhaled, “Okay, you’ve got a point. What should I do?”

“First, squeeze Stanley.” Her husband instructed, handing her the crimson teddy bear with a Rockets uniform.

“And-and the tie?”

“In case you need to scream. Remember the night on the kitchen floor after the whiskey sour shots.”

Oh, yeah, kitchen floor sex was mind-blowing. But Felicity, in the throes of passion, cried out so loudly, their neighbor Ms. Sanchez alerted the cops.

“Yeah, alright. We do this on three. One, two, three.”

She gritted her teeth, grunted and let out a scream as Oliver worked the crumpled little piece of metal rapidly, yet with precision. Ooh, boy, and he hadn’t even grabbed the suture kit.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He apologized profusely, “I’m so sorry, Baby.”

His tie was warm and sprinkled with saliva. His wife panted, “The worst is over.”

“Actually...” Her husband drew out the word, face crumpling.

“Damn it.” The CEO sniped, “Let’s get this over with.”

Three stitches and several swigs from her husband’s flask of whiskey later, Oliver’s handiwork would leave minimal scarring, but it should do.

“Easy.” Oliver tensed, hand drifting to the small of her back. “I’ve gotcha, Honey.”

Her face was serious, “Unpause the argument.”

The couple went round in circles during their verbal sparring match, but it boiled down to this. Felicity stood in his shirt, bra exposed, crossing her arms, so he wouldn’t see the goods. Oliver sat back in her chair as he waited for the final gut punch.

“You do not give me orders. We are a team. We are a family. Is that understood?”

“Yes, but promise me something Felicity.”

“What?”

He interlaced their fingers, “Always tell me what’s bothering you. Curtis hacked your chip. too, didn’t he?”

“How did- How did you know?” Felicity’s lip bite gave her away.

“The pain in your voice, and you fell to knees because Curtis hacked your chip.”

“Yes, but I saw you, you fired off arrows at Curtis, how could’ve you have known?”

“Fighters need more than fists and weapons. I heard you. I heard everything because back on the island.” He paused, swallowing down the horrible memory. “If I didn’t listen for certain things, it was kill or be killed.”

“So you weren’t mad about me being out in the field or even getting hurt?”

“Nope, not entirely.” He shook his head, fingers trailing up her uninjured arm, “You are the strongest woman I know. Well, apart from Thea. I know you can handle yourself out there. What I cannot handle and will not stand for is you making yourself a low priority. Because you’re not. You, William, and Thea are my whole world.”

“I didn’t want to be a distraction. I just—.”

“Stop. You are never that. But this whole communication and inclusion deal works both ways, Honey.”

She approached closer, sitting in his lap. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Oliver whispered like a prayer, his voice grew stern again, lethal, “And when this is over, I don’t want to hear Curtis, Dinah, and Rene’s names again.”

“Agreed.” Felicity nodded, a twinge of pain shot through her arm.

Oliver lifted Felicity up. Her bare feet padded the dusty hardwood floor. He whipped off his t-shirt. Felicity grinned, and looked at her husband with buzzed vision, yet love and adoration mingled in her soft gaze.

“Turn off the bedroom eyes, my love. We won’t be having that kind of dessert for the next couple days.”

Her red lips pursed, “You’re no fun.”

“Uh-huh.” He chuckled, gesturing, “Could you please…?”

“Take off my shirt?” She filled, “Well, if we’re not having sex, what are we doing?”

Oliver teased with a smirk, “Think of this as a little unconventional pain management.”

“Say what now?”

“Do you trust me?” He asked with an eyebrow raise.

She licked her lips, “Always.”

Oliver drew a copy of the tattoo on his abdomen with Felicity's mascara on her stomach. Marks read Shado and Yao Fei in Chinese characters. The couple embraced in a tight hug. He waited until their breathing was in sync. He whispered words in Aramaic. His sole tattoo glowed, wrapping the duo in ribbons of golden light. Felicity rested her head on Oliver’s chest, where his Bratva tattoo once remained. Oddly, Felicity didn’t question the mystical arts. She just let it happen.

Oliver’s tattoo glowed not only as a means to protect his pure heart, his soul, and his truth. It glowed to show the unbreakable bond he and Felicity share deep within their hearts. The angelic light bathed them in warmth, comfort, and happiness. Granted, it wouldn’t heal the physical marks. If it did, Oliver’s body wouldn’t be a map of scar tissue. It would, however, take away the pain.

They both let go with a gasp, similar to when they made love. Oliver and Felicity never saw each other in such vivid color and clarity. Their noses brushed against one another.

All he had left to ask was, “Better?”

“Much.”

His eyes were wet with emotion, “When it's you, everything changes. I don’t want to lose you. Tonight…”

“Went as well as it could.” Felicity said, buttoning his shirt, “Let’s go to bed. I have some paperwork to revise.”

That meant taking Curtis’ name off her company completely.

“Is there a cookie with my name on it?”

She mused, grabbing his hand. “Mm, more like an arrowhead.”

“Even better.”

They retreated to their bedroom hand-in-hand after a long night.


	12. Time's Changing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Diggle's dad.

(Originally via 615 "Doppalganger")

Sunlight streams through each window pane. If it isn’t for Oliver’s pinstripe apron, Felicity will find it difficult. The razor buzzes and vibrates in her hand. She trims his hair with precision and ease. Tuffs of his blonde, salt, and pepper fall to the floor.

Oliver runs his hands through his hair, “See? It’s becoming less of a situation.”  
  
“i can’t believe you trusted your wife with clippers.” Felicity mentions, putting down the razor, She rubs her fingers together, “That’ll be thirty bucks, Mr. Mayor.”   
  
“Hmm…” Her husband thinks, stroking his stubble, “I can repay you in other ways, Mrs. Queen.”   
  
“What kind of other ways?”   
  
“Well, I can….”   
  
His voice drops to a whisper, sharing all the dirty details. Her cheeks flush with arousal and anticipation. She climbs on to his lap, perching on her husband’s bad knee. He groans in more pain than pleasure.   
  
She huffs, “Sorry, sorry.”   
  
“It’s okay. It’s alright We’re fine.”   
  
Felicity straddles him, looping her arms around his neck. “Huh? That is definitely not your knee, Mr Queen.”

She unties his favorite apron, revealing his amazing abs. He hoists up her into his arms, and they make their way to the couch. They tumble onto the cushions and engage in a good ol’ fashion teenage makeout session.His rough palms sneak under that green sweater. Whenever she wore his color, it drives Oliver all sorts of crazy. Their time alone together is filled with laughter, love, and they at least get to second before a look crosses Felicity’s face.

“What’s up?”

She clears her throat, “Whatever do you mean, dear husband?”

“Too much, pull it back, Queen,” Felicity thinks to herself.

He raises a doubtful eyebrow, “What’s with that face you're making?”

“Ugh.” His wife scoffs indignantly, “This is just my face, Oliver.”

“Mm-hm,” He hums, “Then why are you pursing your lips? You always purse your lips when you have something to tell me.”

Felicity admits, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, “I’m...thinking.”

“Okay.”

The couple re-adjusts themselves in a sitting position, mulling through a bref awkward silence.

She combs her fingers through his hair, “Why didn’t you let Hal cut your hair at the barbershop?”

“Because with John’s issues, I doubt Mr. Diggle would want to see me. Time’s changing, and John’s not— “

“He’s struggling. At least Lyla managed to get John in a rehab through ARGUS. It’s just going to take some more time.”

Oliver exhales the breathe he didn’t he’d been holding. Felicity’s head nestles in the crook if her husband’s neck.

William arrives home with a math textbook in hand, backpack slung over his shoulder, and a mop of brown locks pulled back in an ‘80’s ponytail — one he plans to donate as a wig for Locks of Love.

“Hey, Bud?”

The teen’s eyes leave his Algebra textbook, “Yeah, Felicity?”

“I think you have enough hair to donate now.”

“I know.” He nods, short ponytail bobbing along with him, “But Zoe thinks it looks ‘retro cool’”

“Uh-huh.” His father chuckles, dimples pooling in his cheeks.

Ah, teenagers and young love. That look was never in style, but he wants his son to be able to express himself freely. Well, provided it doesn’t hurt anyone. That is until he absolutely has to. High schoolers tend to pick on freshman meat. And on the plus side it’s for a good cause. Felicity shoots her boys another look, tossing Oliver the keys to their Lexus.

“C’mon, I want you to meet an old friend of mine.”

A quick drive to the Gotham style barber shop. Oliver sighs, holding William’s hand.

“It’s just a haircut, ol’ man.”

“Yeah.”

The bell at the front door dings.

A badly stout man, resembling an older version of John Diggle in the eyes. So much pain after losing his wife Yvette, the spark was never the same. So much time passed.

William mentions, “Hey, he looks like…”

“I know.” Oliver whispers, voice rising in his introduction, “William, this is Mr. Diggle. Mr. Harold Diggle.”

The older man waves off, “Hal will do just fine, son.”

Oliver corrects, “William, it’s Mr. Diggle.”

The teenager takes a seat atop a vibrant red spinning chair.

Hal rouses with a belly laugh, clutch his gut before he shakes Oliver’s hand. Oliver lets the handshake linger for just a second longer. It’s almost as if in that very moment, he saw a glimmer of his brother and best friend in his father’s eyes. Oliver thumbs a slim read of Star City in 1960's while William and Hal talk about swagger.


	13. Are You Afraid Of...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Oliver and Felicity bid Thea, Roy, and Nyssa goodbye. They head home to discuss their fears, hopes, and dreams. Worry and nightmares make Star City's favorite couple realize some secrets can no longer stay in the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: I do touch on Oliver's PTSD and Felicity's abandonment issues. I make a mention of Oliver's PTSD. No, Oliver hadn't tried to end his life. He was in a very depressed and disheveled state.

( _Originally via 616 "The Thanatos Guild"_ )

“Bye, Speedy,” Oliver whispered in the pitch black night as Roy and Thea drove off to their own happily ever after.

Felicity rested her head on her husband’s shoulder, “You okay there, tough guy?”

His mouth said, “Yes.” Though his eyes filled with unshed tears spoke otherwise.

She hummed with disbelief.

“I’ll be okay.” He sighed in quick admittance. Oliver offered his arm, and Felicity’s wedding band contrasted her husband’s favorite navy pea coat. They walked along an uneven road to Oliver’s motorcycle. “Thea won’t be gone forever, and I know it’s not the same. But I have you and William now.”

“For the rest of our lives,” corrected Felicity. A palm pressed against his forehead. His wife teased, “Who are you, and what have you done with my Oliver?”

“I have been and always will be your Oliver.”

Felicity never took the whole arranged Nanda Parbat marriage seriously, but God, she loved the sound of that news.

“Huh?” The blonde hacker wondered in complete seriousness, examining Nyssa’s wedding gift, “Ooh, I wonder if I can use your annulment dagger as a letter opener in my new office?”

Oliver shrugged, “Sure.”

“Don’t give me that look, mister. Need I remind you that your letter opener at City Hall is a knife Anatoly stabbed you with in Russia.”

She wasn’t wrong. His smile faded, but his eyebrows arched. He looked at her with big, blue, hurt puppy eyes. “Let’s go home, Mrs. Smoak-Queen.”

“Sounds like a plan, hubby.”

Oliver grabbed their helmets while Felicity straddled the bike. She held onto him tightly when the engine rumbled underneath them. A red and black Denali zipped past the cityscape as the couple made their way home. Keys jangled in her breast pocket. They spied Raisa in her comfy lavender robe, sipping hot tea with a good book.

The off-duty Emerald Archer hoped, “Is William asleep?”

“Mm-hm,” informed the nanny, who looked up from her novel. “He went down at 9:30 like clockwork.” A smile lifted her lips, “William’s such a sweet boy.” Lines around her eyes crinkled when she glanced at Oliver, “A lot easier than you, you little Hell-raiser.”

Oliver’s ankle brushed against his calf. Though, his gaze flicked down to his work boots, Felicity swore she saw a blush cross his cheeks. She bit back at laugh.

The lady of the house simply bid, “Thank you, Raisa. Have a good night.”

The nanny retired to her bedroom as Oliver checked on his son. Even breathing sputtered into a snort when William awoke, immediately sitting up in bed.

“Hey, bud. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

William explained groggily, gesturing at light, which poured in from the living room, “Wasn’t you, Dad.”

“Oh… Okay.” His father realized, sliding the door closed, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Did Auntie Thea and Uncle Roy leave already?”

“Uh-huh.”

“When will they be back?”

“Whenever they get settled.”

“Well, when can we visit them?”

Oliver chuckled, rustling his son’s hair before he urged him to lie back down. “How ‘bout in the summertime? Around Felicity’s birthday in July. How’s that?”

The teen agreed with a loud yawn, “Sounds like a plan ol’ man.”

“Geez, what is this ‘Pick on Oliver Day’?” Oliver thought to himself. He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help that little proud grin. “Nice one, kiddo. Now get some rest.”

“‘Kay,” muttered William, drifting off to a peaceful slumber.

His step-mom recited in a whisper, “Bad dreams, bad dreams, go away. Good dreams, good dreams, here to stay.” She stepped over discarded action figures of the Flash and Green Arrow, fixing his hair. “Sweet dreams, buddy boy.”

Oliver’s hand dwarfed hers as the duo exited their son’s room. His forehead crumpled in confusion, yet dimples pooled in his cheeks.

Felicity clarified, reading her husband’s facial expression akin to lines of code. “Samantha told me on the island it’s a ritual she did with William, even after he claimed he was too old for it. She made me promise to keep it up if anything ever happened to her, and well…” Her face scrunched at the horrid memories of Lian Yu’s explosive demise. She shook her head, ponytail swaying back and forth. Upon clearing her throat, the tech mogul squeezed her husband’s hand, “I’m tired. Let’s hit the hay.”

Oliver followed dutifully. When they reached their room, he guessed while absentmindedly scratching his stubble, “She knew? Samantha knew about us before there was even an ‘us’ again, I mean?”

“Yeah, well she saw that kiss I gave you. It was pretty memorable, my love.”

“True.”

Felicity entered the room first, flipping the light switch. In a cutesy teasing tone, “There, now the scary monsters under the bed won’t get the big broody Green Arrow.”

“Ha Ha,” replied Oliver sarcastically as he set foot in their bedroom. “Very funny, Felicity.” He reminded, “I guess you won’t be screaming for me the next time I have to save the badass and brilliant Overwatch from an itsy bitsy spider in the shower or an and I quote ‘evil kangaroo in our neighborhood zoo.’”

“Hey, man, with the spider, I was literally naked and afraid.” His wife recalled pointing a shaky finger at him. “And-and, I know I have an irrational fear of kangaroos. That’s why they call them irrational. In my defense, they can punch and kick people really hard for no reason.”

He raised his hand like a schoolboy, huffing a small laugh. “Hello? So can I.”

“I know.” She whined, drawing out the last syllable. His wife added with a hand on her hip, “But they have those creepy beady eyes like they’re staring at you — just waiting to pounce.”

“Oh… Kay I guess.”

Oliver wedged himself in the narrow space between Felicity and their bed. He stared at her with such sense of peace and a glimmer of amusement in those bright blue eyes of his, which she’d want to stare deep into her soul. Was it super cheesy? Absolutely, yes. But he knew her. He understood her heart, even though he couldn’t always understand the inner workings of her remarkable mind. One of his self-proclaimed favorite things about his partner in crime fighting was watching that beautiful mind of hers race as they planned their next move.

“What? What’s with that look on your face? You think my fear of kangaroos is stupid?”

"You, Felicity Megan Smoak-Queen, never ever do stupid." Oliver proclaimed with the confidence of a man who's all hers, but the smirk of a boy, trying to save his own hide. "You're adorable."

Felicity pursed her red lips, "Yes, and...?"

"And I'm sorry if I made you feel silly over any fears you have."

"Thank you." Her hands framed his face, squishing his cheeks. "See? There's the man I married."

He mentioned, turning his wife around, "Mm-hm, let's get ready for bed."

Oliver unzipped Felicity's blue dress. His rough palms lingered on the small of her back. The map of mangled skin already committed to both their memories. A wet kiss marked the scar on her shoulder, sending a thrill down her spine.

His wife warned for his benefit and herself, "Oliver, just sleep."

"Are you sure?" Mischief was ever apparent in his tone.

"Mm." Felicity's teeth dug in her bottom lip, "Rain check in the morning."

Oliver fiddled with the button on his Henley.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Queen."

She shimmed out of her dress after multiple tugs on the garment, it fell to the floor.

Her bare feet padded the white carpet as she traipsed into their master bathroom. Felicity had an extra strut to her step, knowing full well Oliver's gaze never faltered. He looked at his only wife the way she marveled at the very first cell phone she invented as a Smoak Enterprises product.

From there, the couple ran through their nightly routine, moving cogs in a well-oiled machine. Oliver found a clean pair of sweatpants after leaving his Henley and t-shirt hanging on the hamper. Felicity finally let her hair down, brushing those pesky knots from her locks. She pushed her man's dirty clothes inside the hamper and closed his open drawer with her hip. He fluffed both their pillows three times each, opening the covers on her side. Oliver checked the battery life on his wife's Tablet before he climbed into bed. She snuggled up on his side, scrolling through projected budget reports for the first quarter. Oliver wrote in his journal with his free arm slung around her waist.

Oliver offered, noticing Felicity watching him briefly before looking away, "You can read it. We have no secrets from each other."

"No, no, it's not your journal. Besides Dr. Bethal told you it's good to write whatever comes to mind after..." She dreaded the thought when she arrived at their apartment. Lord knew what Oliver would have done if Felicity hadn't come home.

"My Post Traumatic Stress episode. You can say it. It's not dirty."

"I know, Honey. I know because I have those moments too."

He understood that as well, especially when he found her sobbing on the bathroom floor. She felt hurt and abandoned by Curtis — another guy, who promised he'd always be there for her. Felicity lost her best friend and work husband in one fell swoop. Pushing the painful memories away, Oliver held her close. Felicity laid her head on his chest, nimble fingertips dancing across those amazing abs. They had so many scars — both mental and physical — but at least they had each other. They always will. He watched that telltale crinkle form between her brows.

“Hey,” Oliver uttered in a soft whisper, breaking silence that lingered between them. “Talk to me.”

She froze, not willing to go there yet.

Felicity lightly grabbed his chin, inquiring, “Did you really have a nightlight until you were sixteen?”

“Um, I had an actual nightlight until I was seven. It was Astro, the mascot from the Rockets. I begged my dad to buy the thing from the gift shop, but he was too busy talking to an investor in the box seats. Raisa gave me cash straight from her paycheck that day, so I could run down and get it. Then when I was ten I always asked Raisa to leave the door open just a crack. So, yes, I was really afraid of the dark.”

“Why?”

Thinking back, he continued, “Ah, there was a tree outside my window. The branches would tap against my room in a storm.”

“So you thought the tree was a monster or something,” surmised Felicity.

“I thought the tree was a monster who would take my parents away, especially after Tommy lost his mom.” Oliver’s voice grew heavy with emotion, “I-I didn’t get the gist of it then, but I knew in the pit of my stomach something was wrong with them. I used to hide in this huge cupboard in the kitchen — just to be alone and away from all the yelling. It was my quiet space, my thinking spot.”

His wife understood, “Your safe haven.”

“Uh-huh.” Oliver wasn’t done yet, hand traveling along her spine as he spoke — no matter how difficult it was to relive, “And, um, when I was on Lian Yu, storms would hit hard. The thunder, lightning flashed…” His body shuddered as if was living in that Hellhole of purgatory. His voice became nearly catatonic. A part of him felt he should shut up, though Oliver powered through, “I found a cave for refuge, lit a fire. I couldn’t let the flame die. I stayed awake for three days straight. Everything else around me was asleep, but I couldn’t. I had to stay warm.”

She gave him an out, “Honey, you don’t have to say anything more.”

“I-I have to.” He cried, tears making his eyes look even bluer and sadder, “I need to.”

“Okay.” Felicity shushed in comfort, listening to his rapidly beating heart. It thrummed against her ear, “I’m right here. I’m right here.”

“I was so hungry, but for the meantime I was safe, warm, and dry.”

“This one storm was so bad, I couldn’t go out and forage for food and water without a tree falling on me. I ate grubs out of this old log I sat on, and I-I drank my own pee just so the soldiers wouldn’t find my water supply. It was running low..”

“Oh, my God.” His wife gasped, running her fingers through his hair before she pressed her body flush against his. “You’re out of there now. We’re safe. William is safe. Do you understand?”

He bobbed his head with a loud sniffle. Felicity whispered words of comfort in his ear until they both fell asleep in a drained mess of tangled heap of limbs.

Felicity was alone in their apartment. Oliver, William, and Raisa were nowhere to be found.

She called out, “Hello? Is anyone home?”

Felicity’s eyes bugged out when she saw a version of herself and Oliver, engaging in quite the shouting match. Okay, now she knew she had to be dreaming, but pinching herself didn’t work.

“Felicity, this isn’t your decision to make!”

“Idiot.” The blonde hacker wasn’t sure if she wanted to physically push her husband back or make him stay. “We’re partners in work, in life, in everything. We’re married. We’re raising a child together, and now what? You want to give all that up?”

“No, no, Baby please…”

“Oh, Don’t ‘Baby’ me now, you jackass!”

“Felicity.” He insisted, grabbing her wrists, “We’re out of options here. It’s the only way you, William, and John won’t have targets on your backs.”

“No!” She protested in a sob, “They’ll send you to jail. You know that, and I am not losing my husband and the father of my child to prison. If people knew all the good that you — we — do, all the lives that you’ve saved. Tell me we’ll find another way.”

He said half-heartedly, “We’ll find another way.”

“Tell me like you mean it,” sniffled Felicity, blowing her nose.

“You know I can’t. It’s time I tell the world I am the Green Arrow.”

Her face crumpled as she cried against his chest. He rubbed small circles over her back.

“Don’t do this please.”

“It’s time. I love you, Felicity.”

Clinging his shirt, she insisted, “Don’t say it like that, like it’s the last time you’ll ever tell me. Say something else. Anything else.”

“Promise me you’ll be…”

“Stop!” Felicity cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips, “Please don’t ask me to be happy no matter what. We’ve been there, done that, and I will never be as I am without you. Keep talking.”

“Who knows?” Oliver shrugged, forcing a small smile, “Maybe I’ll get out in a few months on good behavior?”

“God.” She rolled her eyes, an actual laugh breaking through the tension, “How could you joke at a time like this?”

“Because it’s what we need.”

“Yeah.” Felicity huffed, linking their fingertips, “Time to go down to the station.”

Felicity screamed at her dream self and Oliver, “What the Hell are you doing? Stop him! Don’t go!” Her voice broke in a tremble with tears streaming down her face, “Don’t leave me. Don’t abandon me! Don’t go!”

Oliver alerted, shaking her awake gently “Honey.”

Felicity practically threw herself into her husband’s arms. After her erratic breathing slowed, she pleaded, “Don’t go. Promise me please. I just got back, For six days, Diaz had you, and I just got back, so please don’t go. Don’t do what I think you’re about to do.”

“I love you so much, Felicity. And I swore I would never ever lie to you again.”

“Wh-what does that mean?”

“It’s time tell the world I am the Green Arrow — no matter the cost. Hey, maybe I’ll get out on good behavior."

“Oli-” Felicity started to say, but on a very rare occasion, she was rendered speechless.

They sat huddled up in bed during a dark night, They had a screaming match while William was at school. They made love all tangled up in sheets, foregoing any work that day. Oliver and Felicity shared tears, laughter, and love. At the end of the day, they both knew what they must do. There was no other way around it. It was now or never. Oliver will reveal on Channel 52 Action News that he is in fact the Green Arrow.


	14. Who You Really Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mama's got your fix-it fic covered. (You know it's serious when I call myself mama). I didn't even watch the episode last night at all. I went on a date out with my man. We had a great time. Oh, and BTW, I even deleted it off my DVR. So here we are.

{Originally vis 619 “The Dragon”)

Felicity gathers her belongings — purse, wallet, keys, and Tablet. Oliver’s lips tilt in a smile that doesn’t quite reaches his eyes as the tiny blonde’s eyes settle in a stare. That’s her thinking face. He loves the way her lips roll in and out, forming a small ‘o’ each time his wife mentally checks an item off her list.

Oliver carefully retrieves her charger in a bin filled with spare thumb drives and other gadgets. Hiding it behind his back, he asks upon reveal, “Is this what you’re looking for, Baby?”

“Aw!” Felicity exclaims, flicking her ponytail as she turns to face her husband, “I always forget my portable Halo charger.” She stands on her tiptoes to press a wet kiss to his cheek, “You’re my hero, love. You really are.”

He whispers, “You’re cute you know that, right?” Oliver’s foot brushes against his calf. His head ducks down briefly, highlighting the flush across his cheeks and boyish grin.

“And you’re a dork,” teases his wife with a playful jab.

“You love it.”

“Yeah.”

Felicity’s humor quickly fades when Oliver tucks his new trick arrowheads in an army green messenger bag. Her brilliant mind races with worry as she watches her husband pack some extra ammo before he heads to the bunker for his suit. In those eleven years of survival, Oliver’s senses have become heightened. He can feel his eyes on her.

“Don’t look so worried, Felicity.”

But the telltale crinkle between her brows and the red painted lower lip she’s chewing on traitorous giveaways. He takes a couple strides toward the blonde hacker, rubbing her arms until she’s ready to speak.

“Me? Worried? Pfft… I am totally fine, cooler than the other side of the pillow with you going back to basics.”

“Uh-huh.” Her husband replies with disbelief. “The truth please. Honey, I thought we talked about this week.”

“No, no. I talked. You did that thing with your tongue in bed.” His wife recalls, body heat rising with desire. Her annoyance quells into a sigh. “And then you sucked on my pulse point until…”

“Until your teeth dug into my shoulder when you came. You looked so sexy.”

“Yeah.” She giggles, yet swiftly got back to the matter at hand. Her voice turns serious. “Wait, no! I’ve told you a thousand times I don’t like you going out there alone.”

“You’ve been my eyes and ears since the beginning. Diaz has the entire city under his thumb, so is it wrong of me to want to keep my wife safe?”

“Oh, cut the sexist crap, Queen. I am more than just your wife. I’m the only teammate you have left.”

Scrubbing his face, he groans lowly, “Thanks, Baby. I don’t need the reminder.”

“You know what I mean, Oliver. I’m your partner in everything. Let me be on your side here.”

“I know you’re always on my side, and I love you very much for it. But in order to save this city right now, I need a single-minded focus. Now back to our other issue, what are you so worried about?”

“Like you said since Diaz has the entire city under his thumb, it’s more dangerous out there — now more than ever.”

“You’re not going to lose me.”

Their discussion carries into the living room, where Raisa and William are setting the coffee table for dinner by their fireplace.

“I shall grab the skewers.” The nanny announces, not missing a beat. “You know when I was a little girl in Russia, we used to campfire dinners at home every Winter.”

“That sounds pretty cool.” William says, giving a fairly high compliment for teen standards.

Of course, Raisa neglects to mention those “campfire dinners” back at home were results of power outages for weeks at a time. However, her mama never let struggles and strife show on her face.

Quite the opposite from how Oliver and Felicity appear in front of their family now.

Their son wonders, quirking an eyebrow, “You two okay?”

“Mm-hm.” His step-mom explains, “Your dad and I were just talking about a work thing.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, “I know what kind of work thing.”

“Hey.” Felicity adds, “I actually do have to meet your Aunt Lily and cousin Ronnie to talk about our nano hearing aid.”

“Aunt Lily’s not actually your sister, is she Felicity?”

“No.” She chuckles, ruffling his hair, “But Lily Stein is and always will be the closest person I have to a sister.”

His father requests, “William, can you give us a minute please?”

“But Raisa and I were about to eat dinner.”

“Someone sure sounds excited for my boiled cabbage and lima bean soup. I thought it would go well with the beef skewers.”

“You know on second thought  I just remembered I still have dirty clothes in my hamper. Let me go get them now.”

“Worked like a charm, Raisa,” winks Felicity.

“Please sometimes that boy - oh, I’m sorry young man - can be so much like his father.”

Oliver grimaces as if his stomach churns at thought, “My apologies, Raisa. You’ll never get me to like lima beans.”

The older woman dawdles off to William’s room, ensuring he separate his lights, darks, delicates, and towels. William is one of the only few students who can clone vegetables, although he still needs help to avoid another pink P.E. uniform incident of 2018.

“Unpause,” Felicity stands her ground. “Every year, every fracking year, there’s always some crazy psycho trying to kill you.”

“I understand, believe me. I can handle it.”

She growls, “But you never have, even with Merlyn. John and I were there.”

“I don’t know what else to say that I haven’t already, so can we skip our usual ‘please don’t go’ dance, partner.”

Tears blur her vision as his wife jokes, “Seems like we’re already there, Sundance.”

“You don’t have to funny for me. Do you understand? What? Is this about your dad?”

His wife laughs bitterly, perching atop the back of their couch, “You’ve been talking to my mother.”

Felicity wraps herself in a wool green blanket, watching sparks rise from the embers in the fireplace. Oliver holds her close.

He nuzzles her hair, “Your mom was just worried about you. Besides you told me about the day you last saw Noah when we went on the Pacific Crest Trail.”

“I did? Was it after that bottle of Malbec we shared to stay warm?”

“Mm-hm.”

Felicity’s fingertips skim over the arms slung tightly around her waist. She takes a shaky breath, “Today’s the day he left or maybe Mom and I left him. I’m still trying to figure out that mystery. It’s difficult when you have two completely different sides of the story.”

Her husband listens intently, “And that makes you feel…? Scared? Nervous?”

A small laugh sneaks through her actual emotion because that question sounds so damn clinical and cliche. It’s reminiscent of the ARGUS psychotherapist Lyla recommended, where Oliver and Felicity can both talk about their issues with PTSD, lack of sleep, abandonment fears, anxiety, and even their night jobs. But she knows in her heart that Oliver means it with care and consideration.

“I don’t know how I feel about that to be honest,” shrugs his wife..

“Felicity.”

“What?”

“Are you telling me this because you really don’t know, or are you putting your problems on the bottom of the quiver because you’re afraid I’ll get distracted tonight?”

“Fine.” She sighs heavily in admittance. “I know the kind of man my father is. I shouldn’t trust him, and I don’t. I definitely do not. But it’s like there’s still a part of me who feels seven years old again, and I miss him.”

“Well,” He murmurs against the crown of her head, “Maybe you can visit both of us in prison.”

“Not funny, Oliver.”

Oliver holds his hands playfully in defense, “I’m not trying to be.”

“This isn’t fair. You’ve said the people of this city countless times, and now they’re locking you up and throwing away the key for life.”

“It is what it is, Felicity.”

Felicity swears, “I’m promise I’m going to visit you every single day.”

“I’d love that.”

“And Raisa and I can accompany William, so he can see you as much as he wants.”

The off-duty Emerald Archer tugs on his collar, “We’ve been easing him into the fact that he’s losing his father to a state prison. Let’s keep taking things slow.”

“Oliver.” She looks up, using his abs like a pillow. “William is our kid. He’s going to want to see you.”

“Our kid, huh?” His heart positively radiates with joy at those words.

Felicity sighs dreamily, “Yeah.” Her voice rings with an air of confidence. “I’m going to get you out of there — no matter what. No one messes with my man. It’s just going to take some time, but Hell, automatic locks can be opened. I can create a….”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Oliver interrupts with wide eyes, “I love that you’re trying, but we can’t risk you getting caught. And William cannot have two parents, who would be fugitives. If we’re going to do this, we’ve got to work with the system.”

“The system that falsely accused you of seven counts of murder. We can’t trust people in this city, Oliver.”

“Huh?” He quips, “That’s usually my line.”

She groans, “Oh, stop trying to lighten the mood. I’m not having it tonight, mister.”

“We can trust Quentin, Jean, Dr. Schwartz and Walter. If you want to free me from prison after I’m processed, start be going to Jean.”

“Ugh, who are you, and what have you done with my husband?” Felicity frowns, “Now is not the time for you to be rational.”

“I beg to differ, Mrs. Smoak-Queen. We’ll find another way that doesn’t get you in trouble too.”.

She pouts cutely, “I still don’t like this.”

“I can see that.”

Her lips purse, “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“I already know about the trackers you installed in my bow and wedding ring.”

“Who squealed?” Felicity stomps her foot, “I should probably explain when you were going to Central City so much…”

“Stop!” He held his palm up, “Before you say something that doesn’t matter. You’re my wife, not my employee. Besides, I get it. This life that we lead is dangerous. I understand it’s a safety precaution. By the way, Cisco sang like Bruce after a Broadway show after too much champagne. All I had to do was have Barry superspeed him over to take a selfie with my suit and arrows for his eyes only.”

“Ooh,”She grumbles, muttering to herself, “That little traitor.”

“By the way. Remember when I said your ring needed an upgrade like your glasses?”

“Yeah.” Felicity caresses her frames before she fiddles with her wedding band, “What are you getting at?”

“Lily and Cisco also helped me install a tracker in your ring, and this new red dot on your frames.” He touches the spot, “has night vision, thermal vision, and X-Ray vision. Kara helped with that last part, Purely as safety precautions”

“I should be mad.” Felicity thinks, tapping her lips, “But the tech nerd in me is fangirling so hard.”

They stand at the doorway, knowing he has to go before 10:13PM.

Oliver promises, “I will always come back.”

“That’s not always going to be your decision.”

He points to William’s door. “I know, but I made a promise to that guy in there, and I plan on keeping it. So let me make the same promise to you I will always come back, Felicity.”

“Okay,” she whispers with tears in her eyes.

Felicity crosses the short distance between them. Her heels clack against the hardwood as Oliver and Felicity lock eyes. Akin to when their goddaughter Sara was born, this kiss is wrapped in love, desperation, and familiarity. Their lips crash into each other — a powerful and all-consuming display of affection bathed under soft lights that they call home. She frames his face even after they break away for air, needing to hold onto him just a little bit longer.

Oliver breathes, thumbs pooling in her cheeks as he mimics her gesture, “I’m going to be fine.”   
  
“You don’t know that.” Felicity sighs, “Honey, please.”   
  
“I love you, Felicity.” He presses a kiss to her forehead.   
  
“The last time you told me you loved me R’as stabbed you dead with a sword.. Say something else. Anything else before you go.”   
  
“Your dinner’s in the fridge after you get home from Lily and Rob’s. You just have to reheat it on the stove for a few minutes. I’ll be home soon.”

They leave the apartment in different directions after saying good night to William and Raisa. Felicity drives to Lily’s new home in Central City. She hugs a brunette with her son, who’s not quite a year old cradled above her hip. They peruse schematics for a Queen BioMed/Smoak Enterprises hearing aid over a glass of Moscato and fresh knish. Felicity half-listens to Lily, but can’t help the sinking pit in her stomach.

Her fellow MIT alumnus inquires, “You okay, Felicity?”

She shakes her head in silence.

“So more Team Arrow.” Lily remembers, “Just Oliver. How are you dealing with that?”

“Not well.” Her associate admits, “If you’re asking me now.”

“Okay. Come on. Come on. I’ll have Robbie bring down the wine and knish. Then we can go down to my lab.”

“Yes!” She fist pumps, holding Lily’s hand as they make their way downstairs, “You really are my sister from a different mister.”

They track Oliver. He goes to SCPD, but it’s a dead end. He follows Diaz’s lackeys to a storage area near Starling Bay. Oliver moves like a shadow in the night. Darkness, sometimes in the literal sense, can be his twisted ally when it comes to Vigilante business. He knocks around guards like ragdolls, and they’re lucky they’re still breathing.

“Where’s Diaz?” Green Arrow growls complete with voice modulator.

A guard mumbles with a finger point, “In there.”

Ricardo Diaz reveals himself under a creaky hanging light, “Well, if it isn’t the martyr himself.” With a snap of his fingers, the man who Felicity now deems as Lizard Boy instructs, “El Diablo, show Mr. Queen here, how you handle things outside of the ring.”

The Green Arrow puts an impressive, matching his aggressor blow for blow. But the former luchador is massive — too big to knock out even with Oliver’s years of experience.Three punches leave Oliver slumped against a concrete wall. He’s bloody, bruised, and beaten to a pulp. 

His devil mask is a reaper in the dark night, accentuating his yellow crooked grin, “Es hora de conocer a su creador, hombre. {Time to meet your maker, man.)

“Ah, ah” Diaz reminds with a whistle when El Diablo wraps his meaty hands around the Green Arrow’s throat, “The boss lady needs alive.”

“Boss?” Oliver chokes out, gripping the wrestler's wrists tight.ly

Ballet flats slap over the concrete. A woman who claims to be Felicity’s friend looks no more innocent than a nerdy college student at the quad with her nose in the books. However, the darkness behind her eyes, and the enjoyment of his pain in her smirk bring this woman’s true motives into screaming blood red color.

“Hello, Oliver.” Alena greets

He coughs after The Devil releases his windpipe, “A-lena, how could you?”

“Felicity made it all too easy.”

Diaz plans, “Where do you want him, Sledgehammer?”

“I told you. It’s Alena, Diaz.”

“Yeah?” He scoffs, “Doesn’t suit the badass bitch who took down Star City behind a keyboard. I like your hacker handle better.”

“Whatever.” She waves off, directing Diablo, “You make sure Mr. Queen has a good seat. He’s going to be here awhile.”

Oliver is left shirtless and tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse as Diablo forcefully dunks the vigilante’s head in water. He turns on the monitor to reveal Bethany Snow en route to City Hall. Meanwhile, Felicity spies a green blip on the screen.

“Oh no.” The couple exclaims in unison, despite being miles apart.

Oliver is kidnapped, and if his suspicions are right crooked SCPD cops are ready to assassinate Quentin when he’s sworn in as Star City’s newest mayor.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, if my formatting is off, my laptop has gone to Tech Village Heaven in the sky, so stories are written on my phone and tablet.  
> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated.  
> Say hey, and please let me know what you think in the comments.  
> Tumblr: [DMichelleWrites](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@dmichellewrites](https://twitter.com/dmichellewrites)


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